Crystal Warrior: Through All Eternity (Atlantean Crystal Saga Book 1) Page 9

  ‘Okay, George, let's have it,’ Case said as he and Merryn dropped down onto the rug on either side of her. ‘Would I be right in thinking Fran and Gould weren't alone in finding they had the wrong lover?’

  Georgina winced. So did Merryn.

  ‘Why don't you let George tell it her way?’ she suggested.

  Case shrugged.

  ‘I've been totally restrained all through dinner and you have no idea how hard that was and now—I—want—to—know—what—the—hell—is—going—on!’

  Merryn smiled weakly at her sister.

  ‘He hates secrets.’

  ‘I'm beginning to wish I hadn't kept this one,’ Georgina admitted ruefully, ‘but I really felt it was for the best.’

  ‘Will you stop beating about the bush and get on with it?’ Case demanded, though his eyes were smiling.

  Merryn waggled her eyebrows at him then looked back at her sister.

  ‘I'm inclined to agree with him, George. I'm rather anxious to know what's been going on as well.’

  ‘Nothing really.’

  And yet so much.

  ‘Georgina!’ Merryn and Case growled together.

  Georgina sighed. When any of the family used her full name it was not to be ignored.

  ‘It began at the airport,’ she said, shuddering as the thrill and the sheer horror of the memory of that first moment of connection with Torr, rolled through her. ‘Before Frannie even introduced him. I looked at him over her shoulder and I knew—and so did he.’

  ‘Knew what?’ Case demanded.

  ‘That I knew him in a way—far more intimate even than I know Gould. Yet I'd never set eyes on him before.’ Georgina gazed unseeingly into the dancing flames and continued sliding her hands rhythmically along the dog's back. ‘Then we started talking to each other—communicating—telepathically. I don't know when I've ever been so confused—so—scared.’

  ‘Go on, George,’ Merryn urged when it looked as if Georgina had forgotten where she was.

  Half an hour later, Georgina murmured, ‘So you see why it's all so—stupid.’

  Merryn could only stare at her. Then, as reaction set in and the tears welled up in Georgina's eyes again, Merryn folded her against her heart and murmured soothing sounds into her hair.

  ‘Put the kettle on, huh?’ she suggested to Case.

  When he came back with steaming mugs of tea there was only the crackle of logs on the hearth and the occasional hiccup from Georgina. Merryn suggested she stay the night but Georgina knew she needed to be home in case someone was trying to get hold of her. Torr might've heard, be trying to ring. Suddenly it was urgent to be in her own house.

  As she pushed the leather buttons through the holes in her coat Merryn turned from her towards a display cabinet of crystals of all shapes and sizes standing in the hall. There was a small secret smile in her celestial blue eyes. An angel who'd somehow been trapped in human form, was how Gould had once described Merryn.

  Thinking of Gould brought back a moment of panic. Would she ever hear him speak again, expound in his satirical way on life and the people he found around him? He'd always said she was the pragmatic, grounded one in the family, while Fran whom he hadn’t then met, lived life as if it were one of the fantasies she wrote.

  He'd often teased Merryn about having the `knowing' of an angel. Not without reason, Georgina thought now as she watched her sister. Merryn talked to stones; gemstones and crystals assuredly, but stones. She even claimed they talked back!

  Unlocking the cabinet she slowly stretched her hand into its interior and hovered for a moment over the collection of crystals on the lower shelf. Her fingers closed over an ordinary looking point of clear quartz about five centimeters long. For a moment she held the piece in her hand and her head a little to one side as if she were listening. With a tiny flicker of satisfaction across her mouth, she withdrew her hand and locked the cabinet. Trance mode abruptly evaporated and Merryn strode towards her sister with purpose blazing like stars from her eyes.

  Georgina recognized that look. It presaged some preposterous claim of intelligent energy radiating from an inanimate object. Georgina had heard her sister passionate on the subject often enough. She thrust down the spring of impatience welling within her. After all, to Merryn, the stones were intelligent life. With conscious control Georgina managed not to clench her fingers closed when her sister took her hand and pressed the cool quartz into it.

  ‘For days, every time I've walked past that cabinet I think of you. I didn't really connect until just now. It was as if I heard your name echoing over and over. It was coming from this crystal. It's yours. It'll bring you comfort.’

  Georgina stared at the stone in her hand and fought to still the words of derision roiling in her mind. She didn't want to hurt Merryn but—hell! Then the voice of reason sliced through the panic, pointing out all she had to do was pocket it and thank her sister. Didn't she have enough to worry about without getting into the issue of Merryn's sanity? A sanity which moreover, was exactly as it had always been. She simply lived on a different plane to ordinary mortals.

  Long ago Georgina had accepted love for her sister easily overshadowed any embarrassment she might have felt at her other-worldliness. It showed the measure of her distraction she'd momentarily forgotten that.

  Then Merryn floored her, as she so often did, by showing how attuned she was to Georgina's thinking.

  ‘I'm not asking you to believe in anything, George. Just humor me. Take him home and put him on your nightstand. He'll help you sleep.’

  ‘He?’ Georgina asked, thankful to latch onto something Merryn said she could legitimately question. ‘How do you know it's not a `she'?’

  ‘He's mostly clear. Female quartz is cloudy.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I call him The Warrior. He's sort of—battle-scarred. Definitely a male energy. Ask him.’

  ‘Ask him?’

  Georgina felt the panic hit her stomach again. Was she really having this conversation?

  ‘With a pendulum. Do you want me to?’

  Georgina shook her head and hurriedly stuffed the stone in her pocket. Her fingers were throbbing as if the damned thing had a heartbeat but she wasn't about to tell her sister that!

  ‘No. I'll take your word for it. Anyway I know how to use a pendulum. I've seen you do it often enough. If curiosity gets the better of me I can always try it,’ she said, striving to sound flippant.

  Merryn assumed her knowing Madonna-smile and opened the door onto the street.

  Shivering despite the carefully regulated under-floor heating of her home, Georgina hurried into the study to check the answer-phone. There were numerous calls from friends and family, from Gould's publisher and several of his fans. She noted them all down with automatic precision, making a memo beside those that required an answer. More tears fell as she listened to words of love and support spoken in voices familiar and others that were not, and to an emotional attempt at mutual comfort from Gould's mother in Wellington. It was too late now to ring her back. Once the tears started Georgina couldn't seem to find how to stop them. Uncomfortable with excesses of emotion, she swiped angrily at the drops as they fell and swore virulently with each new wave of anguish that flowed through her.

  The search coordinators had called with an up-date on the operation which effectively said they were no nearer to penetrating the mysterious oceanic force field than they were yesterday and assuring her they were leaving no scientific stone unturned. There were calls from reporters offering money for exclusive rights to the inside story. There was even a call from someone claiming to be clairvoyant and able to channel important information, for a fee.

  But there was nothing from Torr. Why had she expected there would be? She paced through the house, desperate for some thought, some hope that would give her a measure of peace. She had no idea where Torr Montgomery was, much less whether he was even aware of Fran and Gould's jeopardy.

  It was reasonable to think he and Fran had s
evered their relationship as long ago as the morning he'd flown out of New Zealand. Fran had been extremely unsettled and moody after he'd left. Feeling dreadfully ashamed and terrified of exposing her own part in his abrupt departure, Georgina had spent as little time alone with her sister as possible.

  It hadn't been difficult. Fran, who'd seemed no more eager for her twin's company, had made no demur when Georgina professed to be too busy to take the promised time off once the book launch was over. Fran had cut her proposed month-long visit by half and spent the second week staying at Ellen's.

  She had also apparently spent a considerable amount of that last week in Gould's company. Georgina was amazed how different the last four months looked when examined from the point of view of Gould and Fran's guilt instead of her own. It was abundantly clear now, why Gould had seemed content for her to hide herself away from him in long hours of work at the shop, even when it meant simply reading a novel at her desk so it would be time to fall into bed as soon as she got home.

  Often enough Gould had claimed to be working on the new book and had stayed in his study until well after midnight. Only too relieved to have it so, she'd not thought to challenge him about it. It was a moot point now, Georgina thought ruefully, who'd been eluding whom. So much guilty pain could have been avoided if any one of them had been strong enough to voice how they felt. Yet all had stayed silent.

  In the name of love. They all cared so much about each other, had tried so hard to avert the kind of crass drama the media would make of such a titillating `miscarriage d’amour’. As soon as the crazy, mangled phrase popped into her head Georgina could vividly visualize the words as block headlines across every tabloid on the shop magazine rack. Her next realization was she'd gladly face the worst the media could dredge up if only her sister and Gould would walk in the door.

  She should hate them for making her feel guilty for no reason. Maybe she would one day. Right now, all she could feel was a desperate hope for their safety.

  The tears were perilously close again when she stopped pacing to stare blindly out at the spa. Katja, shadowing her every step as she roamed the unlit house, nudged the back of her legs and brought her back to awareness.

  ‘You're right as always, Katja-love,’ her mistress muttered. ‘I need to get some sleep and the best way to do that is to cook myself in the spa.’

  Fetching a towel from the bathroom, she stripped her clothes off in the conservatory. Her coat slipped off the door where she hastily hung it, the crystal dropping from the pocket and clattering across the slate tiles.

  ‘Oh hell!’

  Quickly she bent and located it under a chair. It hadn't shattered but the tip was chipped. How could she tell Merryn her bloody crystal warrior had fought one battle too many? She couldn't be trusted with anything. Not a man's heart, not her own mind, not even a small fragile piece of rock! A bubble of hysteria rose in her breast. Clutching the crystal in her hand she let herself out onto the patio, quickly lifted the top off the spa, and slid into the water.

  Katja ambled off into the shadows on an errand of her own but soon returned to flop on the slates with her chin on her paws and her wolf-like gaze trained steadfastly on Georgina as if she felt her mistress needed her protection. As the heat of the water soaked through to her bones, Georgina dropped her head back against the edge of the pool and closed her eyes.

  Why was it just when she thought she had happiness well in her grasp a man came along who reminded her of how deeply she felt like a whore? Why did she, anyway? It wasn't as if she'd ever been willfully promiscuous. Except perhaps that one time with Alan's son, and even she with her propensity for self-flagellation, could see how the bastard had played on her excessively emotional state.

  So give yourself a break and lighten up, she muttered.

  If only she could take a leaf out of Fran's book, relax and enjoy the moment. See every new experience as something to learn from. What was she to learn from her relationship with Gould?

  It had been intensely satisfying at a physical level. What other levels were there on which to examine it? Almost viciously Georgina punched the button to turn on the spa bubbles. The beating of the water against her body might drive the thoughts away. Nothing changed the fact she and Gould shared nothing more than a very intense sexual relationship.

  When that faltered there'd been nothing left. After Fran and Torr's visit it was as if they'd made a tacit agreement not to invade each other's immediate space, not to ask questions, or make demands. Until that last night before he'd left to join the expedition.

  No. To join Fran.

  She might as well face it. He'd been going to join Fran.

  So what had that last night been all about? She'd come home early for the first time in weeks and made a special effort with dinner. Gould hadn't commented. He'd probably just accepted the phenomenon as the special effort due him since he was leaving next day. Just as he'd expected her to be willing, longing even, to make love with him once the meal was over.

  Georgina almost groaned aloud as the memories kept rolling, like a bad movie. She'd settled on the couch to watch television and after spending some time on the phone, he'd come and turned the television off, put some mood music on the stereo and draped himself over her with obvious intent. Something about the hard smile in his eyes, the deliberateness of his actions had killed whatever hope Georgina had cherished she could respond naturally to him.

  He'd become a stranger to her and she'd reacted accordingly. She'd turned away.

  It had been no more than that, a small pulling away from his embrace, and if she'd felt him to be a stranger before, it was nothing to the man he became after that small act of rejection. Exerting his male strength in a way he never had before, he gripped her shoulders, pressed her back against the arm of the couch, and took her mouth in a bruising, brutal kiss she couldn't escape. Every fiber of her being screamed in rejection, but a small voice in her head kept telling her to give in; he'd be gone tomorrow. Even so she broke out of his clasp, ran upstairs and locked herself in the shower, hoping by the time she'd showered he'd have cooled off.

  You always were totally naive, she told herself now as she remembered how he'd been waiting for her and as soon as she'd opened the shower door, he'd had her. She'd given in because she hated scenes. But what followed had really been tantamount to rape. It wasn't so much that she'd been unwilling; she'd simply lacked choices.

  Unconsciously Georgina clenched her fingers round the crystal in her hand as she sank into the memory of the ugly sense of invasion she'd felt and the thought that had pounded through her mind as Gould had relentlessly pounded into her body—‘Where has the joy gone? Where has the joy gone?’

  She curled her body into a tight ball on the fine linen-covered, down mattress, pulled the woven wool rug around her shoulders, and tried to stifle a moan of pain. Her mother, Archinus Ianthe, resplendent in scarlet gown and jeweled head dress, stood at the foot of the bed holding the crystal-tipped staff of her high office.

  This she now pointed at her daughter. The healing energy of the crystal hummed through her body with the focus of a laser and Gynevra knew there was more comfort for her in the energy of the staff than there ever would be from the person of her mother. Born of a long line of Archini of Atlantis, and having assumed the mantle of office at the young age of nineteen, Ianthe knew much about the Temple Mysteries and administration, and little about maternal nurturing or virgin cosseting.

  Initiation into womanhood was something all women had to suffer and if they were born of a priestess and raised in the Temple their virgin blood was a precious commodity to be shed on the altar in temple ritual. The more painful the deflowering, the more blood, the more successful was the likely outcome of that ritual.

  Bodies healed, pain was forgotten.

  ‘Crying helps nothing, Gynevra,’ Ianthe said briskly. ‘Magus Yazid has made an offering of a young she-goat to the Goddess and Our Lady will smile upon Her daughter who has served Her well. You could a
lso be grateful the healing ritual was so successful that the Magus has made a handsome lodgment into your stadrac - and that you're no longer a virgin. You're now free to lie with whomever you wish as often as you wish—so long as you are programmed infertile.’

  Gynevra's body curled involuntarily into a tighter defensive ball. At this moment she never wanted to look on a man again, let alone lie with one. She could scarcely believe she'd been as needy of the act as the delightedly randy old priest himself, and only wanted to block her ears to the assurances of the older priestesses that the body assuredly did heal along with the mind.

  One positive thing had come out of this day's work though. She no longer had any doubts about her decision to petition her father to contract a sacred partner for her as he had for Meriane. A woman had absolutely no control over what happened to her body when she was tethered to the altar and as for the joy she'd been told could be experienced through the act of mating, there was none in ritual.

  It was the old King, her grandfather, who'd changed the law permitting priestesses to take a sacred partner, purely because there weren't enough unprotected women available for the priests to use to raise the energy in their temple rituals. Now a woman must choose one path or the other. Gynevra knew herself too much a Daughter of the Dragon to be content with the minimal, and chancy, delights of the altar.

  Ianthe would not be pleased. With a soft swish of fine linen, the Archinus left the small room in the College of Priestesses, which would be Gynevra's from this day on, her maternal duty done. The scents of musk oil and attar of roses wafted on the air of her passing.

  The two young women who'd been waiting silently outside the room now entered and dropped one to either side of the bed.

  Meriane, her blue eyes soft with concern, cupped Gynevra's cheek with a tender hand. ‘I've brought you cherry opal elixir, Gyn’a. If you'll just sip on it, you'll feel much better.’

  Gynevra groaned and buried her face in the lint and lavender clagren.

  ‘It truly does help, Gyn’a. I know. It made me feel a lot better. Phree has brought some Angel's Salve and your Four Elements healing crystal.’