Quotessence
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Susan Rowland Books

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“The fire on the mountain.” That was Anna. “Alchemy,” she said. “I feel it singing in my bones.” “Singing?” Mary would never understand Anna. The young woman turned away. Wiseman’s reply was tinged with respect. “That great pair of alchemists, Francis Ransome and Roberta Le More, believed the work they did affected the world’s spirit, the anima mundi. The Native Americans they met believed they too could and should interact with the Great Spirit. They lived with reverence for the land and all its peoples, the ancestors, the animals, the rocks, the trees, mountains.” Mary’s jaw dropped; Caroline glowed; Anna pretended not to listen. Wiseman nodded, then continued. “You mean…?” began Mary. “Yes, it could have been so different, a meeting of like-minded earth-based spiritualities. Just imagine, what could have been?”

“You can’t set fires, Anna. Never again. Promise.” [Anna] aimed her defiance at Mary. “And you? What’s your reason to hate me?” Caroline spoke quietly. “We nearly died — in the fire in those mountains and at the house when Ravi had a gun pointed at us.” Her eyes were full of tears. “The fire you set at The Old Hospital could have killed me as well as Janet and Agnes.” Anna muttered into the syrupy dregs of her tea. “Fire, you’re firing me?” Mary grimaced. There had been too much fire.”

“Unbelievable and true. Anna Solokov is neither a frightened girl nor a criminal spider in the center of a huge web of drugs and god knows. No, that dangerous young woman could easily do both at different times, and to different people. No doubt that is part of George’s attraction to her. She is victim. Yet when necessary, or when it suits her, she is victimizer. Does he imagine he is battling for her soul?”

“Mary dashed the rain from her eyes with a frozen hand. Was that a knife buried in the man’s chest with the blood seeping up around it? Doesn’t that mean he’s alive? Although with the blade at that angle, it can’t be for long. Colors swam in the water coating Mary’s vision. She rubbed her face, and with every shuttering breath, even before she could see his features, she knew her son, George, the son she had never met, was dead.”

“I saw a man on Westminster bridge,” she yelled through chattering teeth. “He had a rope and untied the last knot, looking straight at us. You never undo the last knot of three. Weather magic,” she added, with a glance at the skeptical Mr. Jeffreys. He put his head in his hands. “A terrible thing,” continued Caroline, yelling at Mary. “At Holywell they are doing reverse spells – trying to drain the energy from that hurricane in the Atlantic.”

“Mary chimed in: “The Dee of Shakespeare’s time was famous, a sorcerer with political allies all over Europe. He did horoscopes to advise the Queen about her enemies.” “Thanks to the little runt sounding off to the press, I’m well aware of Dr John Dee,” snarled Robbin’ Robin. “Did you know our Billy Dee says he can conjure spirits from the Parliaments as far back as his namesake in the 1560s? That’s how the PM won the damn election. Dead politicians popped up at Dee’s command. They begged my colleagues to vote for my rival ‘to save the nation’.” Robbin’ Robin did the air quotes that so irritated Mary.”

“Not your usual conman, Edward Kelley,” Anna remarked, putting Caroline’s phone on the bed. “Our Dee’s link to Renaissance Kelley is part of what I’ve been doing with John and Linda. While you slept, Mary, we discovered how in the 1500s Edward Kelley and John Dee toured Europe. Their magical performances kings and emperors produced a sensation.”

“George’s utterance of the nest and the trap belonged to a bigger mystery she did not yet understand. One day I will, she promised herself. She would stake her life that those last words from her son would be solved by her. They were steppingstones into… whatever the wind and the stars and the valiant trees held for her.”