Part 3

Chapter Seven: Of friends and acquaintances

Slowly, agonizingly Joyce's mind fought its way back to the surface, to sanity, but also to harshest of realities. She had to do something, the authorities should be informed; the consequences appalled her, the interviews, the Media and even - prison! No, she couldn't cope with that, it maybe right, but it was also impossible. Joyce's mind raced, she looked around the room for guidance, and realized how long she had sat in confused sobbing lethargy. No sunlight came in through the open curtains; she stood slowly easing her cramped muscles.

Still naked she searched in the semi-darkness for her quickly discarded clothes. She threw them on with similar haste, her mind still a chaos of tumbling thoughts. Drawing the curtains tightly she turned on the bedside light, the solution looked back at her, the soon to be redundant site pass! Loading Gina's body into the T-Bird had nearly proved impossible, the awkward positioning of the comforter covered corpse, plus the solidity training had given Gina almost defeated Joyce small frame and muscle.

Thankfully rolling the cadaver from the door of the "bird" onto the mud proved somewhat easier. Joyce knew from what she had seen from Kirk's plans that one of the first jobs to be undertaken was the filling of the piled deep holes with concrete to form the foundations. The dig on this part of the site finished weeks ago and preparations for the new center were well advanced here. Joyce looked sorrowfully at the body for one last time; then without ceremony she slid it towards its resting place.

A soft thud sounded from the depths bellow and soil was shovelled in just deep enough to hide the body from the casual glance of a hurried construction worker. Joyce stood at the top of the shaft panting; tears welled up in her eyes, never knowingly religious she found her self muttering a deeply felt impromptu prayer "Sleep well Gina, God Bless" After a few minutes tearful vigil Joyce tidied the back seat of her car and drove towards the exit gate, her headlights caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure on the far side of the site; Joyce froze with the realization that someone was a potential witness to her callous act!

The bird rolled up to the edge of the trench, a familiar figure was searching frantically through the mud. "What are you doing Claudia"

Joyce asked her voice still strained with emotion. The figure turned In the bright lights like a frightened rabbit, the dilated pupils looked out from a mud stained face.

"Had to come, more, more - mine!"

Claudia's voice rang insanely.

"More what? What have you got there?" asked Joyce.

Claudia held something clutched to her dirty sweatshirt covered chest

"Mine! Must find more, must find all"

Claudia said in a suspicious accent.

"Can I see, please Claudie?"

Claudia stretched forward her hands between them sat the last piece of mirror frame, it was etched with one of the unidentified symbols from the decree!

"No, no, don't touch! "Claudie screamed.

Claudie bolted into the intense darkness outside of the arc of the bird's bright headlight beams. Joyce ran back to the cars passenger door, swung it open and fanned the torch she kept in the door pocket around the site looking desperately for her friend; there was no sign, it was as if she was never there in the first place!

Joyce had driven home in total confusion; just what was happening to Her life? It really no longer made any form of sense! Once back to the relative sanctity of her apartment she could not face going to sleep in the chilling bedroom and pulled the trailing soiled comforter behind her into her study, the computer had restarted with the power-up and sat in all its normality, taunting her. She logged on and searched for details of the remembered symbol, what she found shocked her to the center of her being the final symbol roughly translated to; to be held in the host's body for ever.

If this was accurate it meant that all the evil collected by the mirror would be passed onto a host; could this be she? Search as she might no more could be found. There was only one thing to do, drive down to the Smithsonian and dig through the archives for clarification. She looked at her desk clock one-fifteen, if she left now she could park up in Washington and take the early Metro, she'd be there when the archive opened in the morning! The decision made, Joyce left at once in a blind rush, leaving the unlatched door to swing gently behind her.

Chapter Eight - Unexpected findings

Sat in the darkened book lined room she felt at once both safe and treasured. An academic surrounded by academia, her nimble fingers flew though the pages her eyes gulping information, hungry for any answer. She flicked to a page, at the top sat the Bathory crest she searched the handle of the opener for any connection, none, then as she replaced it on the table she noticed a fine dust fall from the very tip of the hilt delicately she polished with her finger tip, and then as she started to reveal it more urgently with her nail; the tell tale three upward flicking lines drawn together by the straight line running down the left hand side of the hilt tip - it was unmistakable; the center of the shield in the crest.

If not a relic of Erzebet her self it was decidedly Bathory in origin, this was the genuine article. Curiosity caused Joyce to look more closely at the opener, the blade was wrong it looked original but wrong, hurriedly she pulled her eyeglass from a pocket. The edges of the blade had been ground to make it a flat edged opener, there must once have been a sharp edge, Joyce dropped the opener to the table with a clatter. Some of the other readers glared at the offending woman, who sat with her hand clamped to her mouth, just succeeding in keeping her rushed freeway breakfast in place. All morning she had read through descriptions of the Countesses crimes against servant-girls, peasants and finally lower nobility. She had beaten, bitten and sliced her victims to gain their precious blood, sliced open their breasts, with this knife! Joyce stared in horror as she weighed up the meaning for her own sanity.

Clearly she was influenced, no altered by contact with the knife, but how did the mirror and knife relate to one another the co-incidence was too great, they could not surely have both come from the same cursed family? The answer once it was found was a resounding no, there was no link. The only association was due to the mirrors ability to trap, focus and pass on evil, there were similarities, both Eastern European, both of the same approximate age and carrying symbols of arcane significance but no true linkage. This made Joyce feel safer for some reason, then she realized the only link was proximity.

If she gave the knife to the Smithsonian the two items would be separated, and surely that would reduce if not completely halt any linkage. Now she hit her problem, in her rush to leave she had left the provenance at home, without it there was no interest, a nice theory, but proof was needed. She would need to return home and collect the information. She looked at her watch three- thirty, if she left now, no that was crazy she hadn't slept. Motel room shower, sleep and then home tomorrow morning that she might just manage. It was only once in the air-conditioned room she wondered why she hadn't mentioned the mirror to the curator, pure oversight, she really was getting forgetful.

Claudia awoke in her favorite arm chair and looked down at the collection of muddy artifacts in her torn hands. Her mind was clearer now, she knew someone had interrupted her working last night, but when she returned later all had been quiet. She was pretty confident she now had all the remaining mirror fragments, although she couldn't be certain until she retrieved the others from Joyce, tonight she couldn't, wouldn't wait until tomorrow. She stood a little stiffly after her long chair-bound slumber, glancing towards the mirror, she saw her self. It looked as if a bag lady had broken into her home! She took her self to the bathroom to repair the damage. She really couldn't afford to go out looking like this, it could draw attention; and that might stop her completing her vital task!

At least the darkness and mud had passed - it had taken her hours to get home, clean her self, and then get some rest in the darkened bedroom. Now after just a few hours something was disturbing her, waking her when sleep called so strongly. She struggled to the hall trying to avoid the painful light on her sensitive eyes. She opened the door and spoke dry mouthed to the figure that was obscured from sight by the evening sunset; making it into a shimmering unwelcome silhouette