Christopher WunderLee - Moore's Mythopoeia

Vincent only had to keep her out of trouble for a few more days — then she was his. He ordered his men to initiate another search of the premises, they were going to strike, that was why she was there, to assist them, to act as decoy (they knew her affect on men), something, he just had to figure out what, and before it happened. He wouldn’t let some mistake take away his prize, not after all that work, not after all of his time and energy spent on her, she was finally his (he was still recovering from her drugging him, but he choose not to entertain it, not when she was willing to agree to his terms). Within a few days, she’d be at his home, living there, every day, every night, he’d teach her to take her meds, to cook for him, to clean the house, to greet him at the door, and within a year or two, she’d be pregnant with his child. He would be an A-lister, slightly impure, but still an A, and his child, his boy or girl would be a Greene, distant, but still aristocracy. All he had to do was keep her safe for a day or two, one last mission…

After dinner, as evening wore on and the sun’s light began to pale the horizon, she retired to her room to wait. She hadn’t seen Captain Vincent since that morning; he’d not bothered her, or said anything else. He had her acceptance, he knew she was up to something — he was just too late. She waited patiently; she knew he’d come, and that she’d witness the accomplishment of it. She wanted to see him, she’d desperately been waiting for the chance to be with him again, to hear his voice, see his eyes, feel his hands, and she’d chosen the best possible place to catch him. She just hoped Vincent wouldn’t think of it, that he hadn’t inspected the house.

Elisa pulled out her book, set it on the window sill and began to mechanically follow the words, although she paid no attention to the subject or the plot, since she made sure she looked up, out the window and down onto the grounds, every few seconds. She listened as the house closed down for the night, heard Graham and Haddie turning out lights, talking in whispers, heard them climb the stairs, the young bride’s giggles, synthetic pleas for Graham to stop what he was doing (probably pinching her as she walked up the steps in front of him), the flirtations, and the muffled groans echoing down the hall after only a half hour.

She saw movement by the tree line, flexed, stared after the shape coming towards her, turned out her light, turned it back on, and off again, but it was just an agent making his rounds. She felt disappointment, but settled back in for the wait.

A few hours later, she saw the agent again, his flashlight darting around the meadow, into the trees, and she laid her head down on her book, tiredly observing his search. He wasn’t too thorough, he’d gone over that area about eight times that day, and was simply completing it yet again out of duty. As his flashlight swept the dark forest, which was so silhouetted against the starry night it looked like a black fire engulfing the cosmos, she saw a glint of inorganic color, for only a second. The agent’s light continued though, unaware, until he was gone. Then, the color moved, quickly, straight, directly towards her. She watched intently, nervously, checked east and west, no one in sight, nothing but the shape moving closer, darting from the hedge to the terrace, from the terrace to a lone tree, from the tree to a bush, from the bush to the shrubbery bordering the garden surrounding the back of the house.

Elisa moved from her look-out immediately and silently bounded down three flights of stairs, onto the main floor, no one awake, everyone asleep, even the two agents positioned by the front door and the two against the back entrance, quickly into the library, tugged the swinging arm of the grandfather clock, closed it after her, and headed down the thin, cement steps to the basement. She’s got to get to him before he gets too close, tries to come in through a window or door and gets caught. She walked briskly through the labyrinth, through the dusty cases of brutality, down a corridor, and to a brick wall. She moved a candelabra and winced as the old hinges creaked, the brick grates against the foundation, and the hidden door opened to the outside — how much fun it was as children, for hide-&-go seek, for cowboys & Indians, for all sorts of other juvenile sport…

She leaned out carefully, surveyed the surrounding area, no sign of him, no agents, lights all still off, a faint figure way out by the pond, probably one of his men, groped along the side of the house, towards the back: “joseph, joseph,” whispering, slightly intoned, but as quiet as can be, “joseph?” around the corner, the garden empty, no sign of him. Elisa turned back, back towards her lair, quietly moving along the house, eyeing the agent in the distance, slowly moving towards the secret brick entry…

* * *

E ’n la sua volontate é nostra pace.

We return you to regularly scheduled programming, already in progress…

“A little while and me ye shall not meet;

And yet a little while”, again she said,

“And ye shall look upon me, sisters sweet.”

Purgatorio, Section 27: The angel descends to greet his poetry Beati mundo corde . She urges the traveler to cross the river of fire (a chimney that provides secret access to the basement) because there is no other way to the bedroom. Joseph, irrational, refuses Elisa’s invitation, fearing he’ll be burned alive. But she encourages him by quickly parting her nightshirt and speaking in the voice of a lyricist. It is night, as the two retire onto the steps.

“I have learned all I can from the fires and the rest stop.”

“I saw you crossing the lawn, I didn’t want you to get caught.”

“He was supposed to say: ‘I crown and miter you over yourself’ but he didn’t.”

“What are you doing here Joseph? I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again.”

“Obviously he feels he has brought me as far as he can as a teacher.”

“I’m so pleased to see you again, I missed you. I’ve been thinking about you.”

“You are picking flowers for garlands. I would prefer to look at your eyes in the mirror.”

“There’s agents everywhere Joseph. They know about the mission.”

“I am almost finished. Just a few more steps through the forest with Statius.”

Purgatorio, section 28: Such a sweet odor, the breeze of her breathe against his skin. He is followed by the spirits of the ancients. He spies her making his bed.

“No sooner had you reached the point where the night’s waves could bathe the grass, than you gave me this gift of lifting your eyes.”

“Are you talking to me Joseph?” Elisa asked as she folded another blanket. “What did you say?”

“How is it that every breeze carries me to you and every stream flows towards you?”

“I guess you just followed the stars and I happened to be in the middle.”

Purgatorio section 29: Elisa leads Joseph through the caverns of the basement with her voice. Joseph keeps pace with her around a sharp bend in the wall.

“Look at this.”

Joseph peers through a pinhole in the rock and sees the woman of the house preparing for bed, humming to herself as she removes a chemise and exposes her breasts, unaware of the visitor. He regrets she has to be his prey.

Seven lighted candlesticks in the distance. The twenty-four elders are crowned in white lilies, moving the candles forward slowly.

“Joseph? You still with me?”

Four creatures with six wings amongst them and forty thousand eyes lead a gryphon pulling a golden chariot amidst the four beasts. Three ladies, red, green and white, dance like harlots while four others (all in purple) conservatively sway their hips. A mercenary and his pharmacist follow the chariot ahead of the moneylenders and the captured god of thunder.