Sacred Fire by Tanai Walker

Author:Tanai Walker [Walker, Tanai]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2014-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

Here Alexandrine D’Orleans landed in 1786

Long Live the Sisterhood

Below was a carving of the seven-sided star. I wondered what it meant. I straightened and turned to Quinn. “Who is Alexandrine D’Orleans?”

“Our ancestor,” she said. “She was a French noble who left her home and privileged life for a great cause.”

“The Sisterhood?” I asked. “What is that?”

“Our legacy,” Quinn told me.

She handed back the reins. “There is much I have to share with you, Tinsley.”

I nodded, and as we walked, I waited for her to tell me about Alexandrine and the Sisterhood, but she remained silent. She watched me gallop through the surf and seemed pleased to watch me do so.

We returned to the house and had lunch. After that, we looked at more photographs in the parlor. The phone rang, and Aunt Quinn went to answer it in the other room. I heard her chatting excitedly in French. I picked up on a few phrases and found myself impressed with her fluency. After half an hour of listening to the talk and trying to catch the gist of the conversation, I closed the album in my lap and drifted to the library. After doing some serious poking around, I found a bottle of rum stashed in a hollowed-out old globe. I also found a case of beetles pinned down under glass. A corresponding book lay close by, full of exact little lithographs.

I went for my sketchbook and began to sketch the beetles in studious detail using a wonderful old oak desk as my work area. I equipped it with a magnifying glass on a stand and a green-hooded lamp. I lost myself in drawing, truly pleased with my skills. I don’t know how much time passed. I heard the door open and turned to see Quinn. She crossed the room to study my handiwork.

“Your mother said you’re clever,” Aunt Quinn said. I turned to see her standing behind me, gazing at my drawings.

She told me it was dinnertime, so I followed her to the dining room. We talked of Abatos and my hopes that my father would not see the gift as undermining his parenting.

“You must stop being frightened of your father,” Quinn said. “He’s only a man.”

I didn’t know what to make of such talk. Though not a fan of my father’s denial of certain things, I was under the impression I would be a better person for it in the end. There were too many girls at school who were spoiled and reckless because their parents could afford it.

“I’m not afraid of my father. I only wish he wasn’t so stuffy and that he didn’t work so much.”

Aunt Quinn looked at me with obvious pity.

“I’ll talk to him first about the horse,” I said. “Abatos is mine, a gift from my other family. I should be allowed to keep him.”

Quinn smiled, obviously impressed. I returned to the library and my sketches until I could hardly keep my eyes open. Tired, I went upstairs to the wonderful claw foot tub in the bath that adjoined my room.

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