Death of an Adept

"The symbolism is remarkably consistent," she commented, when she finally put the notes aside. "Too consistent to be mere coincidence. I find the figure of the knight particularly interesting. Is he merely some submerged aspect of McFarlane's own personality, I wonder, or is he an autonomous emissary from the Inner Planes?"

"A good question," Adam replied. "My next move is to start checking into McFarlane's background."

He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, and Philippa clucked her tongue reprovingly.

"I hope you aren't thinking to start in on that tonight, dear. You've already put in more than your share of work today, and you should know better than anyone how fatigue can hamper performance. Ximena will be home very soon. My advice to you is to put this problem on the shelf for the time being, and go get some R and R. God knows you've earned it."

Adam caught himself stifling a yawn, and let it turn into a weary smile.

"Yes, Mother. I'm going to bed now, Mother." He set down his empty mug. "I'll defer the rest of this inquiry until tomorrow," he conceded.

The following day was packed with activities. After putting in a full morning at the clinic, Adam spent the afternoon junketing around Edinburgh on wedding business. He managed to get home to Strathmourne with half an hour to spare before Ximena was due to leave for her evening shift in the casualty department.

They held a brief tete-a-tete in the bedroom while Ximena finished getting dressed, after which Adam walked her down to the front door, where Humphrey was waiting beside the Bentley. Philippa was sitting composedly in the back seat.

"I didn't know you were planning to go out this evening," Adam said.

"Neither did I, until an hour ago," said his mother. "Victoria phoned to say she's needed to sit with one of the women in the parish whose husband died in hospital this afternoon.

Christopher is with her. None of us liked the idea of Julian being left on her own, so I volunteered to play the role of genteel companion. I'll spend the night in Edinburgh, and you can collect me tomorrow afternoon, on your way home."

"Ximena and I are running wedding errands tomorrow, and picking up our rings," Adam said, slipping an arm around his wife's waist. "I can't guarantee what time we'll be able to pick you up."

"Then maybe I'll spend a second night with Julian," Philippa said lightly. "Don't worry about me. Humphrey can come and collect me, if it comes to that. Shoo, now. You've got work to do."

"I can see I'm going to be in for a rather dull evening," Adam said with a smile, as he handed his wife into the car.

"Somehow I doubt that," Ximena quipped. "If I know you, you'll be back in the library before we're out of sight. Just try not to work too hard while I'm gone. Mrs. Gilchrist has left you a snack in the kitchen, when you're ready for it."

As he watched the Bentley pull away, Adam reflected that there was more than a grain of truth in his wife's droll prediction. With the significance of McFarlane's dream journal still unresolved, he had already decided to devote the next several hours to extending his research on the astral. Returning to the warmth of the main house, he locked up and went for a shower, a fresh change of clothes, and a brief rest before embarking upon the night's work.

The grandfather clock in the hall was chiming nine by the time he made his way back down to the library. Though he was alone in the house, he secured the library door behind him and took the additional precaution of warding the room before fetching McFarlane's journal from his briefcase. He was already wearing his Adept ring. Slipped inside the front cover of the journal was a fax photo of McFarlane himself, borrowed from McLeod's case file. He took a long look at it before moving back to his chair by the fireside.

The fire Humphrey had lit before leaving needed only a careful stoking to stir it back to active life. Taking a pinch of incense from a box on the mantelpiece, Adam cast it into the flames with a whispered prayer for guidance and protection, then settled down in his chair and made his usual preparations for entering into trance, the journal now in his lap.

The outside world faded from view, screened behind an aromatic haze of incense smoke. When Adam had reached the working level appropriate to what he had in mind, he transferred his now-undivided attention to the photo, commending the man he hoped was still alive to the awareness of the celestial Guardians of the Inner Planes. Closing his eyes on that thought, he framed his intent in an unspoken petition.