Chapter One:
She’d chosen well, the evening was
hot and promised to get hotter before the end of things, one way or
another. Her choice of apparel would
separate from her body easily but not so effortlessly from that of her intended
target, failing that her body would complete the mission. She moved among the gathered pockets of
people, never staying to long in one place before shifting to another, while
admirers followed her departing trail, some even so bold enough to move with
her. She chatted, sipped her mineral
water, waited and watched her unsuspecting target and the night’s
entertainment, for her at least.
She’d studied her carefully, through
pictures and video as well as a complete dossier but she’d come early to get a
first hand impression. The spring in her
step, their measure, the turn of her ankle, the shake of her hips were all
recorded but seeing it up close was more instructive than any piece of film or
picture could be. So she’d come earlier
than she normally would have to any party, just for these final preparations,
this meant too much for failure to be an option.
Over time the guests thinned out
until only the serious partygoers, those too drunk and those not yet drunk
enough were left. She retreated to the
periphery of the gathering and waited in the shadows shielding herself with
other guests from inquisitive eyes. It
was just after 12:30 am when the doors to the patio opened letting in some
much-needed air; even hot humid currents carrying the promise of imminent rain
were welcome. The air filtered in as her
target wafted out and into the night.
“Perfect! Now to top of the
evening!” she said setting down her glass, slipping through room and out the
doors, closing them silently behind her.
It took a second for her eyes to adjust before she spotted her by the
fountain a little way off, smiling a predatory grin she moved in for the kill.
“That’s far enough Mrs. Hawthorne,”
she heard a woman’s British accented voice behind her say then felt the cold
steel barrel of a small caliber handgun contact the small of her exposed
back.
“I shouldn’t move if I were you!”
Mrs. Hawthorne heard the female voice say in response to a slight testing of
the waters by way of a body flinch.
“Although not the best shot I could hardly fail to
miss from here and even you can’t move faster than a bullet!” her assailant
said warningly as the gun barrel point was pushed a little into her back to
emphasize the point.
“I think we’ll call it an evening then! Please turn around and move towards the patio
doors and from there to the main doors.
Don’t stop for anything or anyone or the consequences will be disastrous
for all!”
Mrs. Hawthorne did as she was instructed moving
quickly and obediently into the house, avoiding the stray of people about and
out the main door all the while with the gun in her back and her as yet unseen
female master in step with her. She
would get her chance and she had no wish to see other people get hurt, or
perhaps more importantly aid in this woman’s escape!
They stopped under the large domed concrete portico
painted with frescoes of idyllic summer scenes that covered the main entrance
as a clap of thunder rumbled above and a waiting limousine. The driver nodded to an unseen command and
opened the back door.
“Into the car Mrs. Hawthorne and please no attempts at
escape,” the woman said.
“It hadn’t crossed my mind,” came her sweet
reply. “I want to see you before I kill
you!” she added just as honeyed voiced.
The two navigated into the car, the spy instructed to
the far side while her opponent seated occupied the near side door keeping a
safe but effective range for shooting between them.
‘Whoever she is, she’s a professional, but even they
make mistakes and when she does I’ll make sure it’s her last!” Mrs. Hawthorne thought.
The car sped away into the night just as the heavens
opened up to a torrential downpour. Mrs.
Hawthorne’s until now unseen abductor pulled down the black cloak she had over
her face and turned to face the spy for the first time. Mrs. Hawthorne took her measure instantly as
she scanned. About five feet, five
inches in height, mid twenties, slim, aristocratically attractive in the
strictest sense of the word with a wonderful figure and fantastic legs that
protruded through the slit in the side of her dress. Her blonde hair was elegantly styled and set,
her make up perfect and her accessories perfectly and exquisitely matched to
her face, style and figure and all of impeccable quality, some beyond anything
Mrs. Hawthorne had ever seen before.
“You have the complete package, but can you use it?”
Mrs. Hawthorne mused as they went along.
Neither party invited nor initiated conversion both
seemed content to let the rain pelt against the roof and windows as the vehicle
spurted along the light of over passing street lights briefly illuminating the
two in flashes before darkness took over again.
The limo turned several times, it made no difference to Mrs. Hawthorne;
her fixation was at the other end of the seat.
Finally, the spy calculated about forty-five minutes, they turned slowly
and the car rolled to a stop. The driver
came round and opened her door; she stepped out quickly, airily and nimbly
before moving around to Mrs. Hawthorne’s.
A nod from her and he opened the door.
“This way if you please Mrs. Hawthorne,” she said with
a motion of the pistol.
The spy just as elegantly came out of her side and
moved to the front door that the driver had already opened for them.
The house or more correctly, the mansion was of
colonial George III design with five large while columns supporting the front
cover porch that ran the entire length of the home. The classic balanced design of evenly matched
numbers of windows set of the face.
“That will be all for tonight thank you,” the woman
said to the driver. He departed closing
the door behind him.
“Alone at last I hope?” Mrs. Hawthorne said. “I hate
to work in front of an audience!” she added.
“To your left please Mrs. Hawthorne and then through
the door at the far end of the room,” came the instructions with a poke in the
back once more.
The duo turned
away from the main centre staircase and into the Drawing Room with its
alternating black and white marble tile floor that their heels clicked along in
symbiotic fashion so it sounded like only one set. As they came to the door Mrs. Hawthorne was
instructed to open the door as they other took several steps back. The spy dutifully obeyed and the two past
into the room the door closing behind them.
The room was about fifteen by fifteen and consisted of
a large mahogany desk and two leather chair, one on each side. The wall behind was lined with bookshelves
and filled with neatly ordered bound volumes with running ladder to reach the
highest shelves. The other main part of
the room was sectioned into a neat conversation area of two wing backed chairs
and two leather love seats arranged in a square. Other assorted pieces of fine furniture
filled in the gaps and had it been daylight the room would have been flooded
with light from the three large windows that ran the length of one wall
interspersed by paintings of landscapes.
The woman led Mrs. Hawthorne to the sitting area.
“Please sit down Mrs. Hawthorne, anywhere you wish.”
The spy chose one of the love seats her body coiling
for action as she sat, the woman took the one opposite her, much to the spy’s
delight and then surprise as she put down the gun on the table before them.
“They have there use I supposed?” she said as the two
starred at the gun and then each other.
“But I’ve always found them noisy and well impersonal” she added. “Besides it’s not loaded, but then if you
suspected that you never would have come with me would you Mrs. Hawthorne?”
“No and I couldn’t agree more about the impersonal
part!” she smiled knowing her chance had finally arrived as she tensed to
strike.
“But upon reflection, perhaps I should have loaded it,
given the situation we both could have found ourselves in this evening?” the
woman said.
Mrs. Hawthorne relaxed a little, but not much just in
case it was a ruse this woman was playing at.
“You seemed to have me at a bit of a disadvantage I
know neither what you are referring to nor your name,” Mrs. Hawthorne stated.
“I’m afraid you were walking into a very carefully
orchestrated trap Mrs. Hawthorne. You’re
intentions were known the minute you were spotted at the airport. Inez Sunga is not a woman without
resources! If you’d followed her to the
fountain you would have been dragged under by four little water nymphs and made
a prisoner of their kingdom. I think you
know what I mean by that?” the woman said.
“Yes I do!” Mrs. Hawthorne said quietly. She began to sense the danger leaving and
curiosity about this woman replacing it.
She decided to press for more.
“And how did you know about me?”
“That requires an answer in two parts, one of which
I’m sure you can deduce.”
“C.O.I.L.” Mrs. Hawthorne answered.
“Yes, they gave me your dossier, it’s over there on
the desk if you’d like to take a look,” she said with a glance over her
shoulder. “I am very sorry about your
husband Mrs. Hawthorne,” she said solemnly and Mrs. Hawthorne could tell with
sincerity. “But also you are a truly
remarkable woman!”
Before the spy could offer an awkward thank you the
woman picked up the conversation again.
“As to the second part of your question, how I found
you,” she said getting up and producing a stiletto from the slit in the dress
and releasing the blade. “Well its time
to put an end to that charade!”
Mrs. Hawthorne stood up ready for battle at the sight
of the knife.
“Mrs. Hawthorne do you really think if I wanted you
dead you wouldn’t be so by now! After
all, the gun wasn’t loaded and it would be a lot less messy and faster than
this,” she said holding the knife open in her palm for the spy to take.
She pondered it for several seconds, rolled the logic
around and decided whatever was going on she was going to see this drama to its
conclusion.
“Thank you for trusting me,” the woman said seeing the
spy relax. “Please lean over the love
seat and grip the back with your hands, I’ll try and be gentle.”
Mrs. Hawthorne felt the tiniest of pricks then a sharp
dig and then nothing before turning around.
“A tracking device, but how and why?” she demanded.
“Your recent trip to India seems not to have gone as
unnoticed as you perhaps would have liked!” the woman said dropping the tiny
flesh colored chip to the floor before grinding it under her heel. “Planted on you by one of your teachers, a
woman named Amrit Pradesh I believe, a D.O.O.M. operative. They’ve been tracking your every movement
since that time, but not to worry Mrs. Hawthorne, this house and my car jammed
its transmission so your whereabouts are now a mystery to them once more. You seem to occupy a special fascination for
them, so much so they needed to have a little extra edge to finish you!”
“But how did C.O.I.L. find me?” Mrs. Hawthorne asked.
“C.O.I.L. didn’t find you Mrs. Hawthorne I did. I have access and means to certain
information they don’t through associates of mine. C.O.I.L. thinks I’m here as representative of
theirs, through a phony cover I’ve set up to get you to join them
full-time. Now you tell me Mrs.
Hawthorne why didn’t Amrit kill you when she had the chance?”
“Because I killed her!
On our last day together we were practicing The Striking Cobra Style
when she seized me in the hold! She had
not taught me all of the style on purpose, but she made it seem that she
had. I was practicing one day by myself
before she came when another master happened to see me. He thought I was making excellent progress
and was ready to learn the final stages.
Of course I immediately suspected and eagerly asked him if he would show
me if I promised not to tell, he agreed I set up the sessions in secret,
learned quickly and was prepared.
D.O.O.M. has been after me for so long I just chalked it up to another
failed attempt!” Mrs. Hawthorne smiled.
“That explains my end of the story,
but yours is still an enigma?” the spy said letting the question hang in the
air.
“Yes, yes it does, doesn’t it,” the
woman said getting up and walking over to a bookshelf and pulling out a
volume. “I need your help Mrs.
Hawthorne.”
“That’s very flattering but how do
you know I’m the right person for the job and more importantly what makes you
think I’ll help?” the spy answered.
“Because of where I found you
tonight and what you were doing there,” the woman smiled.
“Go on,” Mrs. Hawthorne said
alertly.
“Revenge is a noble quest Mrs. Hawthorne, but it won’t
save Claire!”
“If you know something about Claire tell me now! Anything! Anything I can do to help I
will. I love her and miss her so
much. Please tell me!” Mrs. Hawthorne
said her voice breaking as she spoke.
“Claire is in great and constant pain, I feel her
distress, her torment. I’ve tried to
take some of it away but there’s too much of it! She needs more than I can do, the line is too
thin, too old!” the woman said tears forming in her eyes.
“I don’t understand what line?” Mrs. Hawthorne said
desperately
“Our blood line Mrs. Hawthorne. Claire Baxter is a child of mine!” the woman
pushed out as she got control of herself.
“What! Impossible! What are you all of twenty-five or
six yourself!”
“Very good Mrs. Hawthorne I am only twenty-five and
you I believe also have a Masters Degree in the Classics and History from
Radcliffe,” she answered passing her the book she’d removed from the self.
“You’ll find I’ve book marked the appropriate passage
for you,” she noted.
Mrs. Hawthorne opened to the passage and began reading
out loud.
Revelation 12: 7-9
“Now war arose in heaven,
Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon; and the dragon and his
angels fought, but they were defeated and there was no longer any place for
them in heaven. And the great dragon was
thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan, the
deceiver of the whole world – he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels
were thrown down with him.”
“I don’t understand,”
Mrs. Hawthorne said looking up from the page.
“Perhaps it
would be easier if I explained it from the beginning,” she said.
Mrs. Hawthorne said
nothing she merely closed the book, set it beside her and waited for the woman
to begin.
“My name is Alice
Hamilton, Lady Alice Hamilton if you want to be precise. I was born in the village of Totness in Devonshire,
England the only child of the Manor House.
My mother died when I was 10 giving birth to my brother, who also
died. I was married at the age of 23,
gave birth to a daughter at 24 then watched my husband and father die within 12
hours off each other. Overcome with
grief and fear I took my child and embarked on a hurried trip north to
Scotland,” Alice said then paused as she looked at Mrs. Hawthorne.
“I’m sorry for the
tragedies that you’ve experienced but so far there is nothing in your life that
fleshes out the drama you’re trying to instill into this evening,” the spy said
calmly but with genuine feeling.
“Would you say the
same words Mrs. Hawthorne if I told you I was born in the year 1324,” Alice
said calmly.
The spy said nothing,
she had nothing to say, her mind was swimming in conflicted thoughts and
rebuttals and the complete impossibility of it all! It had to be some kind of mind game this
young woman was playing at, but to what purpose, what end? She took the data the woman had given her and
tried to make some sense of it! The
passage from the Book of Revelations, the other hard data and forced her mind
to work, calling up old memories from university and studies she’d done. Desperately she looked for answer other than
the one she had formulated, which was not possible! She stood up and paced oblivious to the other
woman, who she no longer viewed as a threat, now she was becoming something
more dangerous to Mrs. Hawthorne, something it couldn’t resolve with her
rationale.
Lady Alice moved
silently to the small collection of decanters on a empty shelf and poured two
drinks that she placed on the desk just as Mrs. Hawthorne came up to her.
“I have to know,
please forgive me,” the spy said softly even though her heart was hammering.
“Claire said the same
thing when I told her my story as well,” she smiled warmly. “Please be my guest,” she said opening her
arms.
“I think you’ll need
this now!” Lady Alice said as she handed Mrs. Hawthorne her glass and took her
by the arm for support while leading her to her chair before taking the seat
opposite her.
“Perhaps I’d better
fill in more of my story whist you recover Mrs. Hawthorne. One day in May of that summer a boat from
France sailed up the river Dart and anchored in Totness to unload its cargo of
traded goods, much as was usual.
However, when the workers came on board to unload the goods they found
the crew, the few that were still alive covered with black festering sores that
secreted the most foul odor imaginable! That
morning Mrs. Hawthorne, the Black Death landed in my world. Within two days 95 percent of the village was
dead, including my husband and my father, neither of whom I was allowed to see
for fear of contracting the sickness.
Instead I had to endure their screams of agonizing pain and the awful
smell that clung in the air.”
“You can’t imagine it
Mrs. Hawthorne, in two days 900 people were dead, most where they fell with no
one to bury them! The Plague spread like
the cloak of Satan rapidly over the area, entire villages disappeared in days,
no one was spared and no one had an answer to it. You would see a person in the morning and by
noon they were dead and all the while you waited for it to be your turn. Sick people, children, infants, anyone who showed
signs of the sickness were cast out of their homes and into the street to die
and worst yet spread the pestilence!”
“I gathered up my
child, my little Mary, what money and easily bartered goods I could and fled
north in our coach hoping to outrun the plague.
We were just outside of York, in a hollow when suddenly the horses stopped;
I called in anger to my driver to move on but got no answer. Finally in frustration I put my child down
beside me on the seat, exited the coach and found our driver dead of the
sickness. The panic gave way to a sudden
chill that got under my cloak and clothes, I turned around just in time to see
the entire carriage engulfed in an ethereal fog, the like of which I had never
seen before. I pushed my way through it
and back to the coach, but with each step I seemed to be being sucked deeper
into the mists as they swirled about me.
I groped forward, arms outstretched fingers probing for the carriage, it
was then that it seized me, tore me into the air, spinning me in a vortex of
gray and black as it sucked at me, wormed under my skin and wrapped itself
about me. It sunk its claws into my very
being Mrs. Hawthorne, violated me beyond your comprehension of the word and
told me sweet lies that echoed inside my mind and body, each reverb of its
voice looking to find a corner of me that would say yes and submit!”
“The more I resisted
the more it tormented me with visions of what I could have and what I would be
with it. All I need say was yes and it
would all end and a new beginning would unfold for me, better than anything
promised me and all would be given instantly.
Undo your promise, it would say over and over again in, forfeit what you
do not deserve, that which is rightfully ours and I will release you! I never did submit Mrs. Hawthorne, I have no
idea how long I was fighting for, perhaps a few hours, perhaps only a few
seconds, but I won when a called out the name above all others and the creature
fled from me. My battle however did not
leave me entirely unscathed as you now know,” Lady Alice concluded. “Outside of Claire, Mrs. Hawthorne, you are
the only other person in the world who has heard this.”
“It just all seems way
to fantastic to be true!” the spy said absently.
“No more fantastic
than Striking Cobra Yoga or a Constricting Sari, Mrs. Hawthorne, both of which
until a few years ago you would have relegated as the creation of an erotic spy
story writer. To paraphrase a person I
once knew: There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt in your
mind Mrs. Hawthorne!” Alice said with a smile.
“You can say it Mrs.
Hawthorne, perhaps then it will become a reality and trust me I’m not offended
by the name especially since most of the notions around it are utter nonsense!”
Alice urged.
“You’re a vampire!”
Mrs. Hawthorne heard herself say as if the words came from someone else.
“Yes, but not as you
understand the word. I neither drink
blood nor shun the daylight, no that fate is saved for the unfortunates who
answer yes. What attacked me Mrs. Hawthorne
was a fallen angel, one of the very same who Michael and his army cast out of
heaven and who fell to earth. Once
glorious creatures beyond words they in their hate turned inward upon
themselves growing their hate with fire that slowly consumed them. Cast out from God’s grace they soon found
began to fade, losing their corporeal form over time turning into mist until
some vanished from this reality forever.
But not all, Satan, the fallen archangel found a way, he would take from
people the one thing God had not bestowed upon him or any other creature of his
creation, save man and woman, their soul!”
“By taking that freely
from God’s so precious creation, he and his followers would still have their
revenge. The freely given soul would
feed and sustain their hunger allowing them to remain in the world and would
take from God one more of his beloved children.
My heart may no longer beat and I may be somewhat cold to the touch, but
I assure you Mrs. Hawthorne my soul, my essence, my Chi, my Ying and Yang,
whatever you call it in whatever language you speak is still mine until the
end. All that blood and sun twaddle you
can blame on Hollywood, Bram Stoker and fairy tales designed to keep social
order amongst the masses, most of which by the way were supported and even
encouraged by the church of the day.” Alice said a small amount of bitterness
creeping into the words.
“I have to ask,” Mrs.
Hawthorne started to say
“No I can’t jump great
heights, don’t have super strength or amazing reflexes, can’t turn into a bat
or a wolf or disappear into a bank of fog, don’t have a craving for human blood
or sleep in a coffin and contrary to myth I can go out during the day. I am however, by nature of having no heart
beat impervious to poisons and disease, in all other aspects, except aging
though I’m as mortal as you are! Although
I do have a penchant for black evening attire,” she mused with a laugh. “I think you need another drink before I
continue?” Alice said getting up and retrieving the bottle and small old
notebook.
“Now to answer the
final part of your original question,” Alice said before continuing. “Claire being a child of mine. In the strictness biological sense of course
that’s not true, but not in the bloodlines understanding. When I forced the creature to release me I
awoke nowhere near the carriage, in fact I had no idea where I was, but I
instantly knew what I was and that didn’t bother me nor did it seem to be
evident to people I met. I was however
careful never to let them touch me for too long and I quickly learned that
living in a place for more than five years at a time was dangerous, but I’m
getting ahead of myself. I searched and
searched for Mary, but I never found her, I resigned myself to the fact that
she had either been taken by the creature or more hopefully found by a passerby
and taken. It took me 598 years to prove
the latter. In 1947 I met Claire in Los
Angeles.”
“Please don’t ask me
how she ended up in 1947 when she wasn’t even born yet. I have a copy of her mission report, I
believe its called The Boundaries of Time and I’ve included a copy of it with
your dossier if you care to look after we’re finished.” Alice stated.
“One night I brought
her some clothes to wear in the Salvation Army mission where I volunteered and
she was staying. Claire was so overjoyed
she gave me a hug and tried to kiss me on the cheek. I, through centuries of careful avoidance
pulled away, but the contact and hence the bloodline had been
re-established. Some how I had met a
direct descendant of my daughter Mary, I knew it instantly, but Claire was
oblivious, when she left I had to wait another 59 years to see her again! As the time grew closer I began to dream of
her in my sleep, vampires don’t dream Mrs. Hawthorne, I found her in New York
and well you can imagine her shock at seeing a young woman she left in 1947
still young in 2003. Until she saw that
book, she was convinced it was a plot by her adversaries to extract information
from her.”
Mrs. Hawthorne opened
the old notebook, its paper yellow with age and brittle, but the writing was
still legible and most definitely was Claire’s.
It contained page after page of detailed information on stocks to by,
investments to make, days to get in and out, land to buy and when and whom to
sell it, even small bio’s on the purchaser as to how much they would pay for
the land. The last page contained a
note:
I can never repay you for
your kindness but maybe this can help.
Please follow these
instructions to the letter, don’t ask me how I
know these things that
would take too long to explain, just trust me.
I’ve started with small transactions to gain
your confidence.
You’ll always have a place
in my heart,
Claire
“I was already a
wealthy woman at this point Mrs. Hawthorne, Claire’s gift made me much more so
as I’m sure you can imagine, but it didn’t make the waiting any easier. I’ve lived 680 years, but the last 59 were
the longest of my existence. I was no longer alone Mrs. Hawthorne, I had someone
who was blood and finally someone I knew I could trust with my secret! I’m not going to lose that now and I sense
you’re a woman who shares that passion about Claire, otherwise you wouldn’t
have been their tonight looking for revenge.” Alice boldly said.
` Mrs. Hawthorne’s head
was already swimming with the imagines her abductor/rescuer had given her that
evening, now she was being asked to, if she read Alice correctly, help save
Claire. She had no idea if this woman
knew what she was getting into, beyond her longevity, she was mortal, wealth
meant nothing in the box she played in, cunning, skill, stealth and luck were
the commodities traded. The spy had only
committed herself to avenging Claire, that in and of itself was all she could
offer since the spy’s whereabouts were unknown and every private avenue she’d
tried to locate her had failed. She
decided to probe the waters a little more, but her mind was made up.
“Do you have any idea
where she is?” came the straight on question.
“In Japan with a
Kunoichi named Kiko, but you knew that already Mrs. Hawthorne. The more specific question is where in Japan
and that Claire has already told me,” Alice said taking a sip of her sherry.
“When you where in
contact with her through your dreams,” Mrs. Hawthorne nodded.
“Yes. Finding her will be easy, curing her will be
another. I can ease her pain enough to
buy us the time we need, but it’s really a one way street. The treatment is temporary once the time
period is up she will go into a rapid and fatal remission and die within
hours,” Alice said casting her head down slightly at the thought.
“What do we have to
do?” Mrs. Hawthorne said committing herself fully.
“We need to recover a
myth, a set of 13 healing stones that are spread around the world. When gathered together and aligned in a
certain way around the body they generate a healing field that restores the
damaged body.” Alice stated.
“A myth is a hard item
to seize in your hands,” Mrs. Hawthorne countered.
“All myth’s and
legends have their basis in reality Mrs. Hawthorne and I haven’t been around
680 years doing nothing. These stones
exist, apart, their interesting sculptures or pretty semi-precious stones,
nothing more, but together they are greater than their sum and I know where
each of them is,” Alice smiled.
“Then why do you need
me?” the spy asked.
“Some of their owners
may not want to part with them so willingly and more to the point, given the
sheer number of them I think we will require a tad more help in our recovery
efforts. I was hoping you knew some
other agents who could be persuaded to help?” Alice asked slyly.
“So your influence
within C.O.I.L.’s upper echelon extends about as far as mine does,” the spy
laughed. I think I may be able to help
in that area and help may be closer than we know if my intelligence is
correct. You do however understand what
you’re getting into! These people play
for keeps and you’re not exactly trained for this and what to expect once
you’re in. As far as I’m can tell from
what you’ve told me you’re basically mortal, bullets and other means of
execution, excepting poison and drugs will work on you just as effectively as
they will on me!” Mrs. Hawthorne warned.
“That’s true, but that
doesn’t seem to be holding you back Mrs. Hawthorne. After all this is a little out of your general
modus operandi isn’t it?” Alice countered in a friendly tone.
“For Claire I’d do
anything, besides I can handle myself and D.O.O.M. has a nasty habit of turning
up when you least expect or want them to!” the spy volleyed back.
“I read, write and speak
15 languages Mrs. Hawthorne; I could neither read nor write when I was
changed. As for the more esoteric skills
and arts while I’ve had 655 years to learn and train and apply them!” she said
with a wry knowing smile.
“As your Ladyship
commands!” Mrs. Hawthorne smiled raising her glass.
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