Velori was right about the two slabs in the other tomb room. They were sarcophagi. The men had set them in her living room and laid the rolled-up tapestry on the bed.
The one that had the sculpture that looked like her was in the middle of her living room, lying sideways. The eagle woman, he placed to the side of the computer and the snakehead on the other.
Seeing the eagle woman again made her heart quicken and her blood speed. There was just something about her that made Velori want to cradle her in her arms and never let her leave.
Why is this affecting me so much? It feels like I should know them.
She glanced at the other sarcophagi with the snake, her eyes lingering only for a second before walking into her bedroom. She picked up the surprisingly light tapestry, weighing it in her hands while she thought about where to put it. The only wall that would hold the width of it was the spot right above her computer. Leaving it rolled, she placed it on the desk and grabbed the hammer and nails she had gotten from the shed. The tapestry had two small ropes, allowing you to hang it up without damaging it. She'd have it appraised but right now, she needed to see it fully splayed out in full light.
As she started hammering the 3-inch nails into the wall, a strange hymn popped into her head. Velori's voice was always pleasant but to this tune, it seemed beautiful. She couldn't help but hum it; the melody was so pleasant, it seemed to grab at her heart. Picking up the first rope she continued hanging the masterpiece, humming out loud.
Almost at once, words to the hymn filtered through her thoughts, so she began to sing them.
"A Sprite once familiar and someone so known.
Is now a girl, in a land
So distant and alone.
Pushed from her home with nothing more than a scar.
Takes up a place,
In a mind; So distant and far.
A memory locked, in a dormant state.
A heart caged, behind lock and gate.
Who's the one who could save and create,
And bring her from her banished fate?
Who will unlock her, so trapped wings?
Bring back what once was right.
Who must come, to release times strings?
Who else, but her winged knight!
And all aloud her heart shall sing.
As once again, she is a Sprite!"
Still humming the tune out loud and turning the words over in her head she turned towards the sculpture of herself. And there, standing between her and the coffin, was a man. He was beautiful. He seemed over six feet tall, his jet-black shoulder-length hair feathered around his angular face. His eyes were blue and as clear as the Caribbean Sea and his skin, was the smoothest white she'd ever seen. His jaw was strong and wide, and his nose broad.
He looked at her as if confused and then took a step towards her. She backed at his forward motion, running into her computer desk, and tripping over the seat. Before she could fall, he swooped down and lifted her into his arms. Looking over his shoulder at the sarcophagi she saw that the top was half open and there was nothing inside but a small, purple, pillow. She looked back at him and felt like she couldn't look away again. He was beautiful and terrifying at the same time.
Realizing she was still in his hold, she attempted to throw herself out in a rather unladylike manner, with arms and legs flinging this way and that. With a final thud, she planted her feet on the ground and stepped back as far as the wall would let her.
He cocked his head somewhat sideways and seemed to be sniffing the air. Nostrils flaring, he looked back and whispered, "Melisa?"
Inhaling deeply, "No, who are you, and why do you look like my sister?" His accent was foreign to her but captured her attention as no other could.
He looked around and saw the other two coffins and the tapestry on the wall. This time when his eyes met hers again, she saw fury in them. "What have you done and WHY am I here?"
She couldn't speak. Breathing was all she was allowed. He stepped closer, and then stopped. He looked up as if listening to something, and in the blink of an eye, was gone.
Falling to the floor, she grabbed her chest, trying to push movement back into her body. The front door to the rooms slammed open and the head housekeeper flew in with a 22 in her hand.
"Ms. Velori, are you alright? The whole house heard a scream come from the library. I knew it could only have come from your rooms." She moved closer to her, "Ms. Velori?"
She looked horrible, sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall and holding her chest. Her skin was white but held a tint of pink in her cheeks. Her eyes were wide and slightly dilated.
"Ms Velori, you okay? You're as white as a ghost. Should I call the police or some of the other men of the house?" She set the 22 beside the door and came over to help her up.
Hearing Anne's thick Australian accent helped subside some of her shock. But it was only after getting to her feet and sitting in the computer chair, that she was able to say anything. "No Anne, I'm just tired. Can you please go tell the chef that I must be catching a cold? Tell him to cancel the brunch that I ordered. And please ask him to make me something hot and soupy?"
Velori's face had formed into a pout without her meaning it too and Anne could only smile and tell her that she was going to take care of her. Her obvious mothering nature taking over. She turned, picked up the gun, and left the room, leaving Velori to her thoughts.
The look of the eyes of the man from before flashed before her eyes and she grabbed at her head, fighting the oncoming headache. It was the same last night. I must've pushed myself too hard. Visions? Really? Come on Vel. You. Are. Not. Looney! She gently curled her hair into her fingers. The pain caused by the pressure seemed to stabilize her thoughts and alleviate some of her headache.
It seemed so real though. He grabbed me, didn't he? Did I fall at all?
There was no forgetting that voice, that deep, hypnotic timbre. She could still feel his breath on her skin. But he'd vanished like he'd never been there at all. Even the coffin top was closed.
She tightened the grip on her hair even further. It WAS open, wasn't it? God, I don't know.
What she did know, was that she needed to have another steaming hot soak. While getting up, the tapestry caught her eye. It was quite extraordinary, the way it shimmered with silver and gold. Even the images seemed to shine.
Taking in a deep breath she started for the bathroom. She wanted to rid herself of the cold sweat that was now covering her body. Again.
Perhaps she would ask Anne to come back in and sit with her for a bit. It wouldn't be wrong to not want to be alone. Velori liked the woman very much. She was rather nice and tried her hardest to take care of the estate. Anne was a small middle-aged woman but Velori would say she looked more regal than aged. She always held her curly brunette hair in a tight little bun on top of her head. She had been with her family since Velori's earliest memories. Her Australian accent always reminded Velori of her time at the orphanages there. There were so many young children that she'd become close to. Even the mistresses that oversaw the different areas were nice. Velori had been to plenty and remembered how some of them would restrict her to one meal a day and any water was taken from rotten wells or leftover from the Head Mistresses' bathwater. When she'd finally made it to the orphanage in Perth, it seemed like all her dreams had come true. She went to sleep at night surrounded by friends and with a full stomach. Then the Sorensons' came, and her life was forever changed. She never thought someone could or would love her the way her parents did.
Her stomach tightened in pain as she picked up the picture of her mother. Tracing her face with her fingers she allowed herself to remember her laugh and the squishy warm hugs, before placing the portrait back down. Blaming the escaped tear that now trailed her cheek on the dust from the coffins.