Free The Sphinx by Graham Masterton Page A

in tradition, Gene.” She said. “She likes things done in the way they
always were. Some of her beliefs, and some of the things she does... well, you
may not be able to accept them for what they really are.”
    He squeezed her
hand. “I’m still as lost as ever. What kind of tradition? What do you mean?”
    She shook her
head. “I can’t tell you. You can only find out for yourself. I hope you never
have to.”
    He looked at
her questionably for a while, and when he saw she wasn’t going to say anything
more, he let out a small sigh of resignation and settled back on his pillow.
    “Lorie,” he
said. “I don’t mind telling you that you are the most baffling person I ever
met.
    Maybe I should
write you up for the Reader’s Digest.”
    She gave a sad
little grin. “You mustn’t think that I don’t like you, Gene. And you mustn’t
think that I’m not flattered–complimented–because you tried to get into, the
house and find me. It was very romantic, and I’m only sorry you got hurt.”
    “Do I take that
to mean that you do want to go out With me? Or is it another polite way of
saying arrivederci .”
    She looked at
Mm in silence for a while, and he thought he saw her eyes moisten with tears.
Then she leaned forward, her lips carefully closed, and kissed him.
    “I want, very
much, to go out with you,” she whispered. “That’s why my promise to mother
wasn’t difficult to make. But before we ever do, just swear me one thing.”
    “You and your
mother are as full of qualifying clauses as a Senate bill.”
    “I mean it,
Gene. Please.”
    He shrugged
stiffly. “Tell me what it is, and I’ll Swear.”
    “You must
absolutely swear that you will never ask me to marry you.”
    He stared at
her in disbelief. He found her fascinating, and arousing, and he’d even admit
that he’d made something of a fool of himself over her. But as for marriage...
    “Lorie, honey,”
he told her, “if there’s one thing that you can be sure that I’m not, it’s a
marrying kind of man. I have a good job, an entertaining lifestyle, lots of
friends, and quite a lot of money.
    The last thing
on my mind right at this moment in time is wedlock.”
    “And you’ll
swear?”
    “Sure I’ll
swear!”
    He raised his
right hand, and in a deep and resonant tone said: T, Gene Keiller, being of
sound mind and only slightly damaged body, do solemnly swear that I will never
ask you, Lorie Semple, to be my wedded wife.”
    He was going to
continue, but then he saw that her face was utterly grave. She was fingering
her pendant and frowning at him as if he was swearing the oath of allegiance to
the flag.
    “Lorie,” he
said, “I’m not trying to make fun of this, but you have to admit it’s a pretty
wacky kind of promise.”
    She nodded. “I
know what it must seem like. But, please, Gene, don’t ever break your promise.
    It’s the. only
protection you have.”
     
    “Huh?”
    She leaned
forward again, and lifted her golden pendant so that he could see it close up.
He squinted at it, and saw that it was a small pyramid. He reached his hand up
to touch it, but she pulled it away.
    “Is that a
clue?” he asked her.
    She shook her
head. “It’s just to show you. The influence of the pyramid is very strange and
powerful. It’s just to show you what you have to protect yourself against.”
    “Lorie, I...”
    “All you have
to do is remember that I showed it to you. Please…that’s all I ask.”
    He gazed at her
classic, high-cheekboned face in the dying light of the day, and he felt as
mystified as he had the first time he had tried to kiss her. But she was so
serious, and so intense.
    “All right,” he
said, “I’ll remember, if that’s what you want.”
    Later that week
Gene met Lorie at the front gates of the house. It was a crisp, dry day, and
the brown, curled-up leaves sounded like crunching ginger-snaps under their
feet. A little way down the drive, Mathieu was standing stolidly beside his
red-and-white striped