‘Oh, babe, that’s good!’ her paramour crooned, moving his hands towards her waist.
She slapped at his groping hands. ‘I want you spread-eagled.’
‘Just like Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, huh?’
Annoyed with his non-stop banter, she quickened the pace.
‘You need to slow down,’ he moaned. ‘I’m about to come.’
‘I sincerely hope so,’ she quietly remarked. Reaching behind her head, she removed the ornately incised stiletto from her rolled chignon, damp locks tumbling past her shoulders.
She spared a quick glance at the silver emblem of the sacred Irminsul, the ancient Saxon tree of life that adorned the slender hilt. Her lips curved into a smile.
Closing her eyes, Angelika conjured Finnegan McGuire’s image in her mind’s eye, able to see his brown eyes roll to the back of his head as he writhed beneath her. Able to feel his strong, muscular hips buck to and fro. Pleased with the image, she grasped the stiletto in her fist and, just at the moment of mutual orgasm –
– plunged it into the young man’s heart. Then across his throat. His face. His chest.
Warm blood splattered her bare breasts, Angelika gasping with pleasure.
Die, Finnegan McGuire, die. A thousand deaths. Each more painful than the one before.
30
‘How the hell did I get roped into coming to an art museum?’ Finn grumbled. ‘If you ask me, this is just a waste of time.’
‘I didn’t ask,’ Kate promptly retorted.
Ten minutes ago they’d arrived at the Musée du Louvre, Cædmon silent as to the reason for the visit. In that short time span, they’d climbed two flights of marble steps, waded through throngs of yammering tourists and seen centuries of art and antiquities pass in a surreal blur. Like billboards on the interstate.
A general leading his war-weary troops into battle, Cædmon strode into the high-ceilinged Salle des Bronzes. A cavernous gallery, it benefitted from the abundant natural light streaming through a bank of tall windows. Glass display cases affixed to the walls and lining the centre of the salon contained exquisite pieces of metalwork from the Classical period.
Originally a sturdy but simple medieval fortress, over the centuries the Louvre had undergone numerous renovations and expansions, evolving into the palatial residence of the kings of France. Through conquest and outright theft, those same kings amassed one of the most impressive art collections in all of Europe. Confiscated during the Revolution, the royal palace officially opened its doors as a public museum on 10 August 1793. Ironically, the event coincided with the one-year anniversary of the monarchy’s downfall.
‘Jesus, this place is at least twenty times bigger than anything Saddam built.’
Exasperated, Kate shook her head. Always trust Finn to be utterly irreverent.
But also trust him to be incredibly valiant. During the standoff with the Dark Angel, he’d actually shielded her with his own body, fully prepared to take a bullet for her. Kate was still awestruck at his incredible bravery. Even at the beginning of her disastrous marriage, during the ‘happy years’, she somehow doubted that her ex-husband would have gone to such extraordinary lengths to protect her. And while Finn liked to play the foul-mouthed commando, she knew that he had true courage and conviction. In a word, he was an unsung hero.
But she wasn’t about to sing his praises or reveal her feelings. Finn was on a mission to avenge his slain comrades and did not need or want any distractions. Earlier today, he intimated that she was just that, an unwanted distraction that he was obliged to protect.
Because she so greatly admired Finn’s loyalty to his two friends, she wanted to help, not hinder him.
Having yet to explain the purpose of the excursion, Cædmon headed for the last window in the salon. ‘From this vantage point, we can see the spectacular Axe Historique de Paris,’ he said over his shoulder, motioning them to join him.
Sandwiched between her two taller companions, Kate peered through the window; directly below them was the crowded Cour Napoléon and I. M. Pei’s famous glass pyramid.
‘As you can see, the Historic Axis runs in a westward trajectory from the apex of the glass pyramid, through the middle of the Tuileries Gardens and the Place de la Concorde.’ Cædmon tilted his chin at the two famous landmarks, visible in the hazy distance. ‘The axis then continues along the Champs-Élysées, dramatically terminating at the ultra-modern Grande Arche. Without a doubt, one of the most beautiful stretches of real estate in the world. While lovely to behold, most people are unaware that this famous axis is identical to the Sacred Axis in ancient Thebes that connected the Temple of Luxor to the Temple of Karnak.’
Finn glanced out of the window. ‘Oh, yeah. I’m sure that King Tut had a glass pyramid just like the one down there on the concourse.’
‘By “identical”, I meant that both axes were constructed on an alignment twenty-six degrees north-of-west in one direction and twenty-six degrees south-of-east in the other. Fascinating, don’t you think?’
Intrigued, Kate asked the obvious: ‘Identical by design or accident?’
‘The layout of the Axe Historique is quite intentional.’ As he spoke, a lock of red hair fell on to Cædmon’s brow.
Something about those errant strands called to mind a long-forgotten memory of Cædmon, sprawled on a rumpled bed, hands wrapped, not around her, but around a leather-bound history book. Utterly enthralled. That was when Kate realized that Cædmon Aisquith loved the mysteries of history more than he loved her. Soon thereafter, she sent the infamous ‘lettre de rupture’.
Unnerved by the memory, Kate refocused her attention on the axis. ‘The Egyptian obelisk that’s located at Place de la Concorde, wasn’t that brought to Paris from the Temple of Luxor?’
‘Hauled from Egypt to France in the nineteenth century, the obelisk originally stood sentry along the Sacred Axis at Thebes. And just like its Egyptian twin, the Paris axis is orientated to the Heliacal Rising of Sirius.’
‘Sirius is that big bright star in Canis Major, right?’
Pleased that Finn was making an effort to participate, Kate enthusiastically nodded. ‘Big and bright because Sirius is twice the size of the sun and approximately twenty times more luminous.’ She’d always attributed her avid interest in astronomy to the fact that her father was an astrophysicist.
‘Sirius is also the celestial abode of Isis, the queen of the Egyptian pantheon,’ Cædmon added. ‘Marking the beginning of the Egyptian New Year, or Prt śpdt, the heliacal rising of Sirius was heralded as a sacred event.’
‘Wouldn’t the heliacal rising of Sirius happen every morning when the sun came up?’
Although Finn’s question had merit, Kate shook her head, disavowing him of the notion. ‘You’d think so. However, in the spring, Sirius drops below the horizon, vanishing from sight for a seventy-day period. During that time, it drifts approximately one degree each day as it hovers near the Pleiades. The heliacal rising refers to the star’s re-emergence after its lengthy absence.’ She thoughtfully tapped her finger against her lip. ‘Cædmon, what exactly did you mean when you said that the Axe Historique and the Sacred Axis in Thebes are both orientated to the heliacal rising?’
‘I meant that at dawn on the morning of the helical rising, if you were to stand on the Axe Historique and gaze due east –’ turning, he extended his arm towards the wall behind them – ‘Sirius would be in your direct line of sight. But, even more amazing, that evening at sunset, if you stood in the same spot and looked due west –’ he pivoted, resuming his original stance – ‘you would see the setting sun perfectly framed within the open cube of the Grande Arche.’