Rise of Sirius: II: Stormy Weather

From Pixabay.

It was already a quarter past noon when Reid pulled into the brick drive before the Hope family’s home. With its terraced and sculpted gardens, Tudor paneling, and the little windowed tower perched upon the gables, peering over the trees into the distant bay, 5 Gracefield Lane had been in his family since its construction in 1902.

The crepe myrtles were giving their last blooms of rose, violet, and white among the gilded autumn leaves, bending over lush roses peppered by goldenrod, asters, and cosmos, with the rainbow hues of anemones and their woodland sisters swaying below over patches of moss.

Rufus, the family collie, leapt down from the veranda and ran to greet the automobile, prancing recklessly around the wheels as Reid parked.

The weight sitting on Reid’s shoulders seemed to grow with every step his alter ego took. He was worn, far more deeply than he would have expected, two years prior.

With every step Sirius took, the deeper came the flood. Every step against drugs, against slavery, seemed to double the wrong side! What if it did the same that night, and the next morning he might be handed three wrongs to handle, not just one?

Rufus popped his head up to the open window and gave Reid a welcoming nose.

“There’s my good boy, come on, inside!”

Reid slammed the car door, stepped into the foyer, and was greeted by an aroma that was evidence of his mother’s presence in the kitchen.

A curly-haired head popped into the foyer from the adjoining parlor, the head belonging to his brother Tony, three years Reid’s junior; though attending St. John’s University as Reid had, he was already home from that morning’s physics class.

“There you are, Reid! Mother is making your favorite since you’re off work-” he grinned mischievously. “Peanut butter mixed with onions.”

“Peanut butter and onions aren’t a combination, Tony,” Reid scoffed, as he felt the knot in his shoulders still tightening.

He had to make the phone call, then he’d pick up Aphrodite, then it was to the Obelisk-

“Yet,” Tony teased. “Bet you they’ll make a national thing of it too, ‘how to save money in the -’”

“-Worst way possible? It better never be!”

“Oh, Tony!” their mother laughed, stepping through the doorway and flicking a bit of flour into Tony’s hair as she smiled at her eldest. “There you are, dear. He’s teasing, he’s the one who’s been eating peanut butter all morning. I’m making salad and stewed tomatoes for you. Yes, before you ask, there’s bacon in it, too.”

“Perfect, thank you, Mother!” Reid dropped a kiss on her hair and made for the telephone in the hall.

-Memorize the floorplan while trying to appear present during the meeting, then that night, Sirius would go, investigate -

“Hey, Reid, come on, I have something to show you in the garage.” Tony punched him in the shoulder.

“I’ll be five minutes, Tony, if you don’t mind waiting. I have to place a phone call.”

Investigate what? What was the purpose of planning when he didn’t know what he might encounter? But he needed that run-on, run-on list, to check-those boxes perfectly and not miss anything-

“To Aphrodite? Already?”

Reid bounced him a look through the hallway mirror. “No, I have an appointment to make.”

“Sirius?”

“Yes, it’s serious. I’ll tell you about it after, if you won’t mind the wait.”

“I’ll check on the status of the muffins,” Tony replied, and made himself scarce while Reid flipped through the phone book, breathing in the scent of ink and new paper.

“Port Washington. . .4590...” he mumbled, and dialed. “Ah, good day, Miss Tyson. Would it be possible to make an appointment to discuss a potential fund-raiser with Miss Ever-Ruby?”

He fingered a pen, ready to write down a date if need be; he didn’t need to, but when he dropped the phone back on the hook, scratched out an address, and looked up to find Tony juggling a scorching-hot muffin and glancing at him surreptitiously from the kitchen doorway, his consternation was visible.

“I forgot she has an estate,” he said with displeasure, as he began dialing once more. “I’m glad muffin-thieves aren’t on my list of enemies, Tony, or I’d be taking you in.”

He paused and threw another look to his brother.

“Yes, now I am calling Aphrodite.”

Tony refrained from more than a smile. “I’ll meet you out in the garage.”

The door to the garden banged behind him, letting a cool draft in to run down the length of the hallway.

Rewrite the list - Call Aphrodite, meet Tony, meet Cleopatra-

The voice answering the call was that of Aphrodite’s mother, Cornelia.

“Reid! It’s nice to hear from you; Aphrodite told me she was expecting you to ring, so I’ll call her downstairs.”

She turned away from the phone, and beneath her calling for Aphrodite, Reid could hear the barking of a puppy, the mews of a distraught kitten, and between them both, a young girl scolding one and comforting the other.

“It seems as though you have chaos on your hands,” he remarked.

“Ah, a trifle,” Mrs. Liljedahl laughed. “Antoinette, take the kitten upstairs, won’t you? There you are, Aphrodite, it’s Reid.”

She handed the phone over to her daughter and faded into the background, leaving Aphrodite laughing at some mess that scattered the parlor.

“Good afternoon, Reid, did you hear from Cleopatra?”

“Indeed, we’re meeting today at two-fifteen, but there’s a problem. It’s on her estate, not the Obelisk! So I’ll still be entering it blind, unless Cleo VIII has kindly nailed detailed plans on her walls. Yes, I made the appointment for you, as well.”

Aphrodite paused a moment as a crash was heard upstairs, but judging by the accompanying laughter, it wasn’t to be worried over.

“Oh! . . .Antoinette knocked over the cake stand again,” she said merrily. “I’ll have that cleaned up by the time you arrive, and I’m certain to have frosting all over this dress, so I’ll have to change! but I’m glad I’m going with you, Reid. Her estate is out at Sands Point, I think? When will you come for me?”

“Ro-”

“Yes?”

“Ro, with that storm coming in - if it hits while we’re out, you know how I am when I’m driving. I don’t want to take you with me. Stay home.”

“Reid, I need you to let me go with you,” Aphrodites voice came back soothingly. “I’m entirely capable of driving, should anything happen to you. I’ll help you work through it. It’s safer for you if I go.”

The clock chimed softly over the phone.

“Aphrodite?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll leave just as soon as I can have lunch and see what Tony’s going on about; I’ll pick you up in about an hour. Please, don’t make me bring a hat for you.”

With her rippling laughter ringing in his ears, he made his goodbyes and ducked into the kitchen.

Trays of bran muffins lined the counter, one with tell-tale empty cup, marking the largest one which Tony had spotted first. Mrs. Hope was busy checking the dish in the oven.

“Almost ready, Mother? I’ll have to leave in an hour to pick up Aphrodite. Please forgive me as I pull a Tony.”

“At least you won’t burn your fingers the way he did,” she smiled, as Reid prised one muffin from the tray. “As long as you’re going out again, dear, would you mind picking up a few cans of peaches for me? I’ll need them for the punch later.”

Reid gave a distant nod.

Don’t think about the why and the date -

“Thank you for the muffins, Mother, I’ll be back for the rest once I’ve tracked down Tony in the garage.”

His mother stopped him, searching his eyes.

“Reid-”

That tone again? Reid braced instinctively as his mother gently smoothed his brow.

“Something’s hurting you again. It’s Sirius, isn’t it?. . .I don’t want to keep begging you, Reid. Don’t let him eat you up by his name. When you’re not furious, you’re weary. You mustn’t keep running this cycle this way, dear. You worry me.”

“Why do you think I steal muffins, Mother?” he laughed quietly. It wasn’t that he disagreed. It was only he knew by now that he couldn’t promise. Not yet.

He departed through the kitchen doorway into the garden, where the wind had begun to blow strongly, hinting that the previous night’s storm was, indeed, going to be repeated. Reid frowned and bent his head against it, rounding the house to a secluded corner of the drive where it was extended by gravel.

The garage was a brick building, an old white-washed carriage-house, just large enough for the family car; only, today the family car wasn’t in it, for Don Hope was still at work. Reid dragged open the wide Tudor-paneled doors to the sound of Tony’s portable radio blaring, but the piece was somber even over a muffled clatter.

. . .Gloom and misery everywhere
Stormy weather, stormy weather
And I just can't get my poor self together
Oh I'm weary all of the time
The time, so weary all of the time!

Reid stood framed at the doorway, looking over the sight, wishing the song didn’t have to be so fitting. She – and it – always popped up, everywhere, every day, every thought.

Hence why Sirius drove a cobalt blue 1929 Reinastella, of all the fitting cars on the market – and cobalt was Jewel’s favorite color.

He sighed.

“Tony!”

Tony popped up from behind the automobile.

“Here is I,” he said cheerfully, tactfully changing the station to jazz. “You’ve been pinching muffins, too.”

“I have,” Reid remembered, as he locked the doors behind him. He surveyed the Reina, finding that Tony had already cleaned the mud from the tires and the hood.

Normally he made certain not to keep the Reina at home. His Uncle Rorick’s private observatory, only a few miles away and deep within the trees, was a fitting place to hide Sirius’ automobile, where no one could glimpse Reid making an escape in it.

For now, the car had been left as it had been made, but for obvious reasons there were no plates. The former was going to change, and he suspected this was why Tony had called him to the garage.

They had planned an alteration that would render his car less likely to be halted by the police, for the number of times his car was easily mistaken for a civilian without plates was a source of mild frustration. It had been agreed that he ought to make it a little more recognizable, and that could be done with Tony’s help, for he spent his time working on automobiles and anything electric he could get his hands on, whenever he wasn’t studying.

‘It’s for fun,’ he always said. Reid wasn’t sure which part of it was fun, other than the fact that Tony could eat cookies every time of day he wanted, and you couldn’t do that in an office building.

Reid had tried, for the sake of distraction if he started having flashbacks at the office, but had quickly given up due to the number of times his secretary popped in, visibly disappointed by the lack of sharing.

“Hello? Reid! Are you having another flashback?” Tony’s concern was apparent as Reid found himself staring fixedly at the silver shooting star modeled on the Reinastella’s hood.

“No, no. Thank you, Tony. What was it you wanted to show me?”

“Been thinking about what to do with your near-arrest problems,” Tony replied. “We agreed it needs to be a balance between subtle and obvious, and I’ve concluded that we oughta paint a star where the license plate is.”

“My question is, couldn’t anyone decide to acquire a cobalt blue car with a star for a license plate?”

“Mm, that’s why I bring extra ammo, but let me get that star painted, first. Already made a stencil for it with some old wood lying around,” Tony waved aimlessly and left Reid to methodically tear apart the forgotten muffin while he watched.

A few strokes of a gray and blue paint, with drops of red from an old project, and it was left to dry.

“Now, scrap metal,” Tony announced, toeing a pile of dubious material he’d left in the corner. “Nothing much but, I think you need a better star on the hood than that!” He produced another object from his pocket. “I thought this might be the right touch.”

Reid took the broken crystal star-rays from his brother’s hand. Once upon a time, there had been an ornament brought overseas by his maternal grandfather, and that ornament had graced the Christmas tree every year, and hung in Jewel’s bedroom window through every remaining season. The day she had died, the vibrations of thunder had cast the ornament to the floor and shattered it into four perfect rays.

“I thought you could think of it as a kinda guardian angel thing. . . I’m sure she’d like it if you did something with it, and it will stand out far better than the current ornament.”

“. . . Can you have it done by tonight? Am I going to be able to get out of here without anyone seeing the Reina? I had my doubts about driving her over last night.”

“No problem! Wait. What’s tonight?” Tony asked suspiciously as he began wiring the rays together. “And, so long as you don’t make tracks in the middle of a party, you’ll be fine.”

“I was coming to that. We’re not having one, though, so that shouldn’t be a problem, then.”

He caught the shiver of a reply on Tony’s face.

“Are we?”

Tony hesitated. “It’s Jewel’s birthday. . . you know we’re having Virgil and his family over, and relatives and old friends of Jewel’s. . .”

Reid bit his lip. He never forgot Jewel’s birthday. Never, but he did tend to forget about the gathering. All he ever did was sit in one corner of the room drinking the peach punch she liked and trying to hold back a wall of flashbacks, usually to no avail.

“I didn’t forget her birthday. . . I forgot that we still celebrate. I won’t be here.”

“Sirius is going to keep you out late. Beats a flashback, if you can avoid it. Give me the lowdown, then, and Mother and I’ll come up with an excuse and will keep everyone away from the drive and windows; though, no joke, I’m sure no one will blame you.”

Tony kept his silence while Reid relayed what he knew, what he planned, and only the silence in Tony’s eyes belied that he listened as he made short work of the wiring and set to filing off the original shooting-star from the hood.

“I for one am not going to blame Sirius if he does show up at the Obelisk tonight. But Eygpt reminds me!” Tony fished a paper out of his pocket. “There was a call for you while you were out, it skipped my memory; some fellow from the Met, an ‘Emrys Augustus Morgan’? I took down his message here. It’s the translation of that ring you took in.”

He folded it into a dart and cast it across the room.

Reid caught it deftly and uncrumpled it.

“Morgan isn’t the one I gave it to,” he muttered, give the note a quick scan. “I gave it to Professor Arrington. Morgan must have been the man in the back of the room, Arrington’s assistant, perhaps.”

“Uh, Reid? Morgan’s the guy who recently made a triumphant world tour after recent discoveries of royal tombs in Rome and Egypt. He’s only the rich man’s favorite historian and archaeologist.”

“Mm-hm, and I don’t pay attention to the time anyone wastes on self-promoting world tours, Tony. If that was him, he seemed terribly curious about the ring. Let’s see now, ‘the ring’s translation is ‘Seth’. Seth was the Egyptian god of chaos, storms, and violence. Ring includes curious symbols at the end that does not match the archives, may be a maker’s mark…,’ etc. Suits the man, doesn’t it? It doesn’t answer the question of why, though.”

“Any ideas what’s with all the Egyptian stuff?”

“If it doesn’t have anything to do with Cleopatra, maybe some type of cult that’s sprung up from Egyptomania. If it’s Cleopatra? I think it’s still some kind of cult she’s creating with her ancestor-worship, if she’s truly related.”

Tony popped his head over the roof of the car.

“Is she on sus, then? That means under suspicion, neophyte.”

“Yes, Tony.”

“No soap!”

“We do have soap, Tony, judging by the fact you already washed the Reina! Now please, transition to proper English.”

“Not soap soap, must I keep translating-“

“Tony!”

“Alright, then! That isn’t possible, are you satisfied?”

“Tony, if you would cease plaguing your sentences with slang, I might understand what you’re saying without asking,” Reid exclaimed in exasperation. “At least Aphrodite doesn’t use slang-”

“That’s not the only reason you call her nearly every day now,” Tony accused. “Why do I get the feeling -

“That’s because-”

“If you’re still that worried, Reid, don’t you think you ought to middle-aisle it to protect her?”

“Come off it, Tony!” Reid replied, ducking under the door. “Have you ever heard the term, ‘platonic’?”

“Sure, but somehow I don’t think it suits. Something tells me it’s too late, for her, and for you.”

“Listen, Tony. You know I can’t. Further, I have no desire to be a heartbreaker. If anything happens to me, it would break her.”

“And if anything happened to her, vice versa,” Tony supplied quietly.

Reid stopped, eyes flickering to meet his brother’s.

“Yes,” he muttered.

“Then you have to protect her.” Tony grinned again. “Which means you’re trapped between the two options, Reid. What better way of protecting her than marrying her?”

Reid shook his head in reply.

“Anyway, I need to eat lunch and pick up Aphrodite. She told me she’d best come along.”

Tony made a face. “Yeah, they say dogs are a man’s best friend, but with screwballs, caution is a man’s best friend.”

Reid frowned at him over the top of the car.

“I don’t think that sentence came out right,” he teased, and dragged open the door.

“Yeah it did! Wait…did it? No, it did.”

“You and your slang, Tony,” Reid’s voice floated back to him.

“Come on, it’s so much more fun! You ought to pick some up for yourself, you might not be so stiff half the time.”

Reid shoved the door back open and poked his head in.

“I’ll learn it to understand it, not to use it!”

Tony shook his head. “You’re so stubborn, you know that?”

“I don’t want to sound like one of those screwballs! Like yourself, may I add?”

He left Tony spluttering in mock indignation, and within the hour, whisked Aphrodite – who remembered a jaunty beret to match her lilac ensemble - from her doorstep in the direction of Cleopatra’s estate.

“Aphrodite?” Briefly removing his eyes from the road, Reid looked to her to see how she was feeling. “May I bring up sensitive subjects?”

“If you must, you may.”

“Was Seth the Egyptian name he – Bruno - was called by?”

Aphrodite flinched. “Partly, but that isn’t all that Egyptian-sounding, is it?”

“That’s what I thought. I might need to get my hands on a. . . more intact translation.”

If Aphrodite suspected his suspicions that Morgan hadn’t completed the translation on purpose, she didn’t bring them up, watching instead as the sky grew greyer and clouds tumbled about.

On a thought, Reid drew the ring out of his pocket.

“Ro.”

She held out her hand and Reid dropped the ring into her palm.

“I know how you feel about this, Ro,” he urged. “If you can, could you hold onto this for me and bring it out, casually, to catch whether Cleopatra reacts? Perhaps plant it in the room, even. It would be too suspicious if she sees me with it. But if you can’t, that’s alright.”

Aphrodite shivered but curled her fingers over the ring with a nod.

“Reid - do you think there’s hope of returning what I -” she faltered. “What I took from my parents?”

Reid dropped his head a little so that his gaze was level with her anxious one, as Aphrodite’s fingers nervously rolled the hem of her coat.

“I’ll track them down if there’s any chance of it, Aphrodite. Your parents have forgiven you, so please don’t worry if the jewels don’t turn up. They’re just glad that you’re safe, now.”

“I hope I am,” she admitted, and lapsed into silence.

The storm that had troubled them didn’t break as Reid drove, bringing Aphrodite safely to their destination at Seagate Court. Instead, it broke when they clambered out of the automobile to poke around the towering front gates, searching in vain for some way of gaining entry when no one appeared to allow them through.

Beyond the gate which bore the mosaiced name of “Menefer,” across a massive sloping yard cut by reflecting pools brimming with blue lotus and framed by gardens, they glimpsed a sprawling mansion built in an Egypto-Hellenistic style, with a forest of pillars leading up to it through oblong pools. A miniature Nile, the East Creek wove its way along the eastern boundary, fed by Long Island Sound.

Everywhere they looked were brightly painted friezes of Egyptian motifs in scarlet, turquoise, and violet, set amongst gardens which would have bloomed vibrant with irises in the warmer months. Now there was only the sweet scent of the last bloom of jasmine.

“It seems that she spared no detail,” Aphrodite commented in wonder.

“Indeed.”

“Oh, Reid! You ought to appreciate it, at least.”

“I’m sorry, Aphrodite, I can’t think of the style of it without Sirius’ mind being at the fore; I care about the layout and what lies underneath all of this plaster.”

He threw a glance up to the sky. The clouds were gathering; the first drops of rain were spattering against the turquoise and ruby mosaics of an ancient queen, one Reid could only guess was Cleopatra VII.

“We can’t stay out here, Reid!” Aphrodite called, seeking shelter beside the gateway.

“No,” he replied, raising his voice to be heard over the rustling of the olives and palms overhead. A moment’s stare through the bars proved that waiting would be fruitless. It would have taken five minutes for anyone to cross the distance from the nearest building to the gate.

They could wait in the car. Could, but then he had to attend Jewel’s party, if only for a few minutes; Aphrodite needed to get home by four-thirty, and Sirius? Sirius needed answers, and wasn’t known for his patience.

The painted plaster wall beside him was as massive as the pillars, but it was stepped backwards at intervals, enough for him to climb over.

“I’m not one to pull Sirius out in broad daylight – but they were expecting us,” he grunted, as he lifted himself up to the top and reached down to assist Aphrodite.

“I believe I can sort out which building is the house,” Reid said dryly, once they had dropped down on the other side of the wall. In reality, he found it quite the opposite – each building was as grand as the next, and the only possible clue was the glassed sunroom which faced east from the most distant building in the complex.

Dig up this facade and crush it, find what’s lying underneath-

Somewhere, someone was already aware of Ever-Ruby’s dark side.

“Watch the irises, Reid!” Aphrodite pleaded as he tugged her along, the wind shoving them, stumbling, into the garden plots, leaving the heels of Aphrodite’s pumps to sink into the soil and nearly crush the bulbs lying underneath. “The poor things need to bloom in the spring, don’t you know?”

“They’ll survive us better than we would survive a storm, Aphrodite.”

They ducked into the shelter of a hedged path leading up to what might have been the veranda of the main house.

“May I ask Sirius to always be gentle, the way he is with me?”

Reid turned to look back at her, dark thoughts clearing, but Aphrodite’s eyes slipped up over his head and widened.

The wind had picked up, but the growling behind him wasn’t that of branches straining against the storm.

“Reid, look out!”

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Read the previous chapter here.

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