The Cusp of Aries (The Zodiac Mysteries Book 1)

By Kaye Freemartin

"On an Earth-like planet called Astrogea, people are tattooed at birth with their zodiac signs, which dictate how they look, where they live and with whom they associate. This categorization has resulted in some hostilities between people of different signs or groups of signs, but no one is more disdained than the Cuspians--those born between signs who don't strongly identify with either. Astrogean private investigator Margo Ramm is summoned by Dermot Justice, a wealthy, ailing politician, to find some priceless pieces of art that have gone missing from his home. Margo arrives to find his vast villa full of potential suspects: Justice's ill-tempered second wife; his stern personal physician; his self-important business partner and the partner's supermodel daughter; a niece and nephew with checkered pasts; and the musician husband of Justice's deceased daughter. As Margo investigates, she begins to doubt the houseguests' supposed concern for Justice's health. She also finds that there may have been greater crimes committed than art theft--perhaps even a murder..." -- Kirkus Reviews

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kaye Freemartin
• Release date: Jan 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9780615880709

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The Cusp of Aries

By Kaye Freemartin

Copyright 2013 Kaye Freemartin

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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(Book 1 of The Zodiac Mysteries)

MARGO – the hesitant private eye finds herself embroiled in a fiendish plot to overthrow the house of Justice, and eradicate all the impure signs of Astrogea.

The cusp of Pisces and Aries / Water & Fire = Steam

The New Age

On another world like Earth, one of many Earths in the multiverse, a world called Astrogea (Astro jay-Ə), the people are fated from birth to live by the movement of the stars and the arrangement of the planets in the sky.

The twelve signs of the primordial Zodiac mark them at their births, ordaining how they look, what they like, what they do, and who they love.

Born of the wisdom of countless generations, the inhabitants of Astrogea followed the ancient laws of the elements—fire with air; earth with water; or each element with its own kind.

For centuries, this arrangement produced a reliable peace. But it came at a price. Hostility and mistrust grew between naturally adverse elements—fire and water; earth and air.

Over time, in an effort to broaden their minds, the people of Astrogea agreed to relax the ancient laws. The borders of the countries were thrown open and the signs intermingled. The more fixed elements of society, however, strongly objected. In exchange for the free association of signs, it was decreed that the birth chart of every citizen, every future newborn, would be written in ink across the neck, marking their identities as permanently as did the stars upon their lives.

The age was called The Awakening. Here and there, a new type of person was born into this world of change. They were Cuspians. And having been born on the cusp of two signs, a formerly unheard of phenomenon, they were thought to be the embodiment of a world gone awry.

Throughout Astrogea there were rumblings as of distant thunder, and forces dark and vengeful were known to call the new age the Cusp of Chaos.

Chapter One

Margo sighed and fidgeted with the folds of her red silk scarf for the tenth time in as many minutes. She wished the driver would hurry. Forcing herself to relax, she leaned back against the luxurious leather seat and touched the rich bronze trim on the door. The long seat beside her was empty except for her large purple satchel and a light jacket. She looked out the window: In the rosy light that streamed through the car’s tinted glass, Lira looked like a fairytale.

She let down the window, and took a deep breath of the sweet-smelling air: Tall cedars cast dappled shade on her pale, upturned face. Their fragrance reminded Margo of her friend Nina, who was always in the laboratory concocting scents specially designed for each of the twelve astrological signs—not including those like us, Nina had said wryly.

Like us. The words jangled in her ears. Never mind that, Margo told herself, leave your gloomy Piscean thoughts where they belong. Back east. Isn’t that why you wanted to take this case?A change of scenery?

How different this place was from the coast—and from the FireWater Orphanage!She had spent so many years in the cool, wet city and so much of her childhood in the desert—buffeted by extremes, a true Cuspian. How lucky for the Librans that their home was so temperate, so balanced, just like the scales that symbolized their sign.

In the distance, high on a jagged outcropping of rock, was a large bronze dome:The Villa Harmony. She was finally near, after hours on the train and this last endless hour in the car.

Margo opened her satchel and pulled out the letter she had received the week before from Chancellor Dermot Justice. The cream-colored paper, thick as parchment, had been intricately folded in the shape of a crown and sealed with a bead of wax which bore the imprint of scales surrounded by a garland of laurel leaves and the initials D. J.

Impatiently, like a typical Aries, she skimmed the elaborate, old fashioned salutation and the unnecessary flattery and focused on the parts vital to the job.

…And so, my dear Miss Ramm, I need someone with your talents in investigation to help me locate the items and, as I fear might be the case, discover the fraud or theft taking place in my home, beneath my very nose!

Upon your arrival, I will provide a complete list of the missing items, and ask you to create an inventory of my holdings in jewelry, antiques, and artworks before more of them disappear…

His signature was scrawled in large shaky letters across the bottom. She refolded the letter and put it back in her bag.

Margo stared out the window again, but instead of the dry tawny hills of Lira, she was seeing the rain-splashed balcony of her apartment in the Seascape Towers and the image of her lover, her ex-lover, reflected in the long oval mirror that hung in her bedroom.

Clem Sargas was an assistant inspector of Imber City, one of a long line of Scorpio detectives up for chief inspector. Clem had met Margo at a soiree given by Imber City for The Finders, a firm of private investigators which, more often than not, uncovered key evidence and performed most of the field work for the Imber City Peace Department. When they were of a mind to do so, the city inspectors would entice The Finders’ best investigators to leave and join the department.

That night at the soiree, Clem had cornered Margo, bringing her a goblet of Neptunian wine and watching her wince at the taste. But she smiled gamely and fluffed the sequined scarf she wore to match her lavender evening dress. To someone with a trained eye and the sharp natural perception of the Scorpio—like Clem Sargas—her movement was calculated to hide the natal horoscope tattooed on her neck.

You’re the best and we want you, Clem said with the forcefulness of the Scorpio. I want you, his intense gray-green eyes said. The pay is remarkably better as well, Miss . . .

He had paused. He didn’t know her last name.

Is it? she asked, refusing, in her mysterious Piscean way, to give him the information he wanted. What if I said I wasn’t enticed by money, Mr. Sargas.

I would say you are an unusual woman, but then I think that might be true in any case. His eyes dropped to the symbols partially obscured by the drape of her scarf. The Pi P. I. , if I’m not mistaken, he said with sardonic humor.

Margo should have known then, her Piscean intuition should have told her, that eventually Clem would turn on her and turn a blind eye to the awful ribbing of her fellow detectives, the bottles of blood-red hot sauce stashed in her locker, the dime-store paperback entitled Women of Fire—How to Quench Their Thirst. And when she quit the Imber City peace force and went freelance, he had moved out of the apartment with a shrug while Margo, back turned and tears streaming down her face, watched him pack his clothes from the long oval mirror in her bedroom.

Suddenly hearing the voice of the driver on the intercom, Margo flipped a switch that lowered the glass between them.

The driver in a smart navy blue uniform glanced at her in the rearview mirror. His eyes were the clear, far-seeing hazel of the Virgo.

With an unconscious motion, she felt for her scarf.

We’re almost there, Miss, he said.

Thank you.

Margo’s voice came out husky and wavered a little as if holding back tears.

She has the voice of a water sign, the driver, August Tal, reflected. He stole a long look at her in the mirror. Margo’s hair was a rich, almost blackened auburn, but too red for the water people, whose hair was blue-black, a color as cold and deep as the bottom of the sea. Her eyes were the intense turquoise of the Aries, but round and soulful like the Pisces, Tal realized in some confusion. He recalled himself to business.

This is the Judge’s private road here, he said, slowing down and turning the wheel sharply left. The car climbed a steep slope paved with cobbles of beige and bronze colored stones. Wait till you see the villa. It’s a marvel. He glanced at her again.

Margo smiled. I saw the dome on the hillside. It reminds me of a temple.

August Tal nodded. That’s exactly what it is—a temple to ‘beauty, truth, and justice.’

Margo heard the gentle mockery in Tal’s voice. She looked at him with suspicion. Virgos were usually quite loyal to their employers. Maybe his Virgo practicality was offended by such lofty ideals.

Sounds interesting.

Margo fell silent and watched intently out the window. The naturally growing cedars had given way to thin, tapered evergreens lined precisely along the sides of the road, almost standing guard. They were Graveyard Cypress, so called because they used to be planted in cemeteries and in front of houses where dead bodies had lain to rot. Margo shivered in spite of the warm air.

Here it is, August Tal announced. The car crested a gentle rise.

Margo saw the Villa Harmony stretched out before them, balanced delicately on the steep hillside. The bronze dome seemed to hang in midair like a bell of the gods, waiting to be rung.

As a foundling, a Cuspian, Margo had never known riches and luxury, had grown up in the FireWater Orphanage, which, though a beautiful hacienda style building with cool red tile floors, clean and well-cared for as far as institutions went, was like a rough adobe hut compared with the splendor and grace of the Villa Harmony.

August Tal pulled up to the wide front entrance, also made of bronze and engraved all over with the symbol of Libra.

The driver jumped out of the car and opened Margo’s door, offering her a hand, which she accepted out of wary politeness. She wasn’t used to gallantry—quite the contrary, given the petty harassment by her former colleagues at the Imber City Peace Department.

While the driver went to the trunk to get her bags, she walked to the door and was just ready to grasp the knocker when the left side opened soundlessly and a very tall Aries woman with a long ram-like face stood and inclined her head with the barest nod.

Margo recognized the type at once—recognized herself in the turquoise eyes and brows curved sharply like horns. The Piscean part of Margo wanted to quail and apologize for the disturbance. But the Aries in her took over and she said confidently, How do you do? Chancellor Justice is expecting me. She withheld using her name as she always did on assignment.

The Aries woman moved aside to let her enter. Her face had all the life and expression of a mask.

Margo stepped into a grand entrance hall bathed in golden light. Ahead, through an archway, she saw a rotunda and the rim of the dome. On either side of the arch was a set of curving staircases, mirror-images of each other. The railings were repeating patterns of the Libran scales. The floor was a vast checkerboard of cream and rose-colored marble tiles.

But the most stunning part of the magnificent entry was the twelve-foot statue of Lady Justice, which stood on a tall bronze pedestal exactly in the middle of the checkerboard floor. In her outstretched left hand was a scale perfectly balanced; in her right, held close to her thigh, was a sword. She gazed with pupil-less eyes into the steep hills of Lira. Her face looked beautiful and stern, a goddess who was just but not merciful.

Margo admired that. She wished that she could be so steadfast and impartial. But the fate of the Cuspian was to flounder from one extreme to another, always unpredictable, always torn.

No wonder they call it a curse, she thought. It didn’t matter how relaxed the laws were, people still did not know how to handle the Cuspians, though that seemed about to change and not for the better she feared . . .

Loud tapping noises echoed through the quiet foyer. The Aries woman was walking away, her four-inch stiletto heels clicking on the marble tiles.

Why would a woman so tall, a housekeeper no less, wear shoes like that? Margo wondered.

Suddenly she realized that the woman’s shoes weren’t the only tapping sound in the room.

Another, more muffled tapping came from the other side of the foyer, and Margo turned in that direction to see a slender, elderly man with a walker. He moved with almost unbearable slowness across the polished floor.

He looked up then and smiled, a wide beam of afternoon sun streaming upon his face. His teeth were the perfect even whiteness of dentures, a ghoulish contrast to the mottled skin on his scalp, which shone beneath the thin strands of gray hair arranged carefully on his crown.

My dear, he called. You must be Margo!What a pleasure to meet you. I can tell already you will be like a daughter to me.

Chapter Two

Margo colored at his effusive greeting, and walked toward him, smile fixed on her face, hand outstretched.

Chancellor Dermot Justice took Margo’s hand and shook it warmly, the bronze walker standing like a barrier between them. He looked at it sheepishly. He was a Libra, and it embarrassed his Libran hospitality and love of beauty.

Margo saw his expression and, like a sensitive Pisces, moved to stand beside him and said brightly, I was just marveling at your beautiful house, Chancellor.

Call me Dermot, please. Titles are . . . fussy. We’ll leave the devotion of titles to the Capricorns, yes?He waited for her agreement, her approval.

Thinking of her ultramodern friend, Jade, who wasn’t a typical Capricorn—or fully Capricorn for that matter, Margo said, If you like. Then her Aries desire to get down to business asserted itself. Shall we go over that list of items you mentioned in your letter?

A fleeting look of hurt appeared on his face. No, no, not yet. First you must see the house. The grand tour, conducted by me, of course. He bowed.

It won’t tire you?

It will, and I look forward to it. Maybe I’ll sleep like a baby tonight and not need those damnable injections. But now, we shall move on to more beautiful and tranquil considerations. This way, please.

He led her to the statue of Lady Justice. You’ll notice she isn’t blindfolded.

Yes, Margo murmured, admiring again the goddess’s calm, decisive bearing.

And do you know why, dear Margo?Because justice is not blind!Justice is clear-sighted. Now notice, too, the scales are not empty. Equal weights are in each—they must balance. That is very important. He chuckled to himself. Very important, indeed. Now follow me into the rotunda. I have a magnificent sight to show you.

He tapped feebly with his walker; Margo moved alongside him, her red ballet flats making no sound on the marble floor.

Wait! He grabbed her forearm, his dark blue eyes shining with delight. Before I forget. He pointed at the ceiling.

Margo looked up and saw an enormous chandelier in the shape of a scale. Each side held twelve brilliant globes of light, representing the twelve signs of the zodiac.

Justice also shines a light against the dark. The darkness is chaos. Come.

Dermot Justice led her into the rotunda. Inside the dome was the starry night sky re-created by a metal sphere in the center of the room, which beamed out the constellations of the zodiac. The old man’s face was alight with wonder like a child’s. There had been a machine just like it at her university, the International School of Astrogea, but she could not bear to dampen his enthusiasm by mentioning it. She feigned surprise and awe. Satisfied, he beckoned her to follow.

They left the dome. The old man tapped with his walker, stopping here and there to point out the multitude of paintings and sculptures. The house was a museum!

Margo longed to take out her notebook and jot down her observations. But, every time she went to remove it from her satchel, the judge would turn to her with avid eyes, so eager for her attention and approval that she felt she couldn’t possibly look away for a moment.

She smiled and her gaze dropped to the tattooed glyphs, now faded with age, on his withered neck—moon in Leo; so that’s where the need for attention came from. Of course she felt like a hypocrite for looking. All people, even rich important people like the chancellor, were required by law to display their natal charts—a compromise with the conservative Paragons for the lax association and travel decrees brought about by The Awakening.

No matter the laws, Margo was always trying to conceal her own chart. A Cuspian, she was marked by a double sign, the curved H of the Pisces and the V-shaped horns of the Aries, yoked together like a set of ugly fraternal twins.

Dermot Justice led Margo into a long gallery on the left side of the foyer. At the far end, some eighty yards away, was an enormous window displaying, like a picture postcard, the snow-capped peaks of the Aerial Mountains.

Along both walls were more than two dozen statues and paintings of Venus, the goddess who ruled the Librans. The chancellor pointed out his favorite, a statue of Venus looking seductively over her shoulder, her shapely buttocks the focal point of the sculpture.

The epitome of womanhood! he cried.

Margo smiled faintly and looked away at the distant mountains.

Dermot Justice spoke of his Venus collection with a barely containable joy. One empty spot, a pale rectangle on the wall went unremarked. Margo looked at him with a puzzled expression. Why didn’t he want to bring up the missing objects?That’s what she was here for.

Chancellor? she began.

The old man turned away, expecting her to follow.

He opened the broad heavy doors of the library. Margo stared into the enormous room. Towering cases of books were laid out in precise Libran balance, ten on one side, ten on the other. Busts of philosophers, and the most venerated astrologers of the ages frowned down at them from their lighted glass cases. They passed an empty platform, which also went unremarked, on their way to view four suits of body armor—representing the four elements—standing guard in the back of the room.

Opposite the library was the music gallery. Dermot Justice became very quiet, almost reverential, when they entered. Margo saw a stage surrounded by red velvet curtains, more lighted cases—one of them empty—displaying musical instruments, and several rows of plush velvet seats. Four balconies belled out above them in the dimness. A grand piano sat unused in the wings. The silence was vast and heavy. They stood solemnly for several moments as if at a funeral service.

Let us go now, the chancellor murmured.

As they made their way back to the entry hall and he led her past the rotunda to the other side of the house, the old Libran’s mood lightened once more.

And here is our final stop, dear Margo. I’m sure you’ll like this, Dermot Justice said with a wink.

On the other side of a long sliding window, hung with gauzy cream curtains, was a large indoor pool. A series of vaulted arches, white columns and walls of glass gave on to breathtaking views of the Liran countryside. Terraces and wide stone steps led down a steep slope to a vineyard that had not been visible from the road.

It’s magnificent, Margo said. Her voice ricocheted around the room, shattering the silence.

Suddenly there was a loud splash. Both Margo and Dermot Justice looked down at the same moment to see a woman quickly turning to look at them. She was sitting in the circular hot tub which formed the head of the vast swimming pool.

For the love of Venus, you gave me a start! the woman said. Her hand flew up to her breast.

Musette! My dear girl! Dermot Justice cried. He abandoned his walker and unsteadily descended the steps that led to the edge of the pool. I want you to meet someone very special.

Margo followed quickly, keeping an arm out to catch the old man in case he should fall on the slick tile stairs.

In one graceful motion, Musette Major rose from the whirlpool. Her long, shapely legs glinted with beads of water. Her bronze suit clung to every magnificent curve of her body. She was a living statue. Like Lady Justice in the foyer, tall and broad of shoulder; face beautiful and impassive.

Margo recognized her at once. She was a famous model in Astrogea.

Musette Major reached down, grabbed a towel and briskly rubbed the wet ends of her long brown hair.

Isn’t she just like Venus newly born from the sea? Dermot Justice beamed.

Musette Major bent down and planted an affectionate kiss on the chancellor’s head. His flattery is endless. But he means absolutely every word of it.

I want you to meet Margo. She is going to help me— Margo widened her eyes, warning him not to give away too much of her purpose here. Instantly, he understood her meaning. She’s going to appraise my estate.

What on earth for? You’re not planning to leave us anytime soon, are you Uncle Dermot? She looked truly alarmed.

He chuckled uneasily. Well, you can never be too prepared at my age. And I have a lot of heirs. Including you!You should want a proper accounting, my dear. And I know your father wants one. He hasn’t been my business partner all these years for nothing. His smile faltered, but he patted the hand that Musette had wrapped possessively around his arm. Anyway, I hate talking of numbers. I know you earth signs love them, but they are so plain and boring.

Margo held out her hand. No need to introduce us, Chancellor. I’d know Musette Major anywhere. Your face is on nearly every magazine cover and billboard in Imber City.

Musette shook Margo’s hand. You don’t say, she drawled, sounding wholly amused and self-assured.

She was a perfect Taurus with her wide-set brown eyes and thick golden-brown hair. Her lower lip was sensuous and full, almost pouting, her skin rosy-tan. In her left nostril was a tiny gold nose ring. Her natal tattoo revealed her to be a triple Taurus: sun, ascendant, and moon.

The men on the coast, especially the Scorpios, practically drool over your pictures, Margo said. Including my former lover, she thought.

They’re water signs, they can handle a little extra liquid.

Dermot Justice laughed. From a distant room they heard a clock strike five times. He turned to Margo and said, I’ll leave you now. The maid will show you to your room. We dine at seven. Wear nice clothes, Margo dear. I’m old-fashioned about dressing for dinner.

He bowed and then kissed Musette’s hand. Margo went with him as he climbed the steps to his walker. He waved weakly, now tired from his tour.

Margo and Musette watched him vanish behind the curtains.

I’m going for a swim. Want to join me?

No, I’m a terrible swimmer, Margo confessed.

Oh, how odd. Musette said, with a gleam in her eye. I thought Pisceans were very good swimmers. She turned and walked to the edge of the pool. Before she dove in, she said jauntily, See you at dinner.

Her expert dive left only a tiny splash.

Margo blushed hotly. Her hand rose at once her throat as though she couldn’t catch her breath. Somewhere on the tour, somewhere between Lady Justice and the pool, her red scarf had twisted, revealing the ugly twins of her dual birth-sign.

Chapter Three

Margo couldn’t let the awkwardness that happened with Musette Major disrupt her professional duties. In a little while she would record her observations in her notebook, but for now she filled the tub in her luxurious bathroom of cream-colored marble and then relaxed in the warm water and daydreamed.

As a Piscean, Margo loved water, loved to bathe in it, did her best thinking lying in the tub; but she was a poor swimmer who never seemed to get any better. The Aries influence made her panic if her face was underwater. The impatient Aries nature chafed at the heaviness, the slowness of moving in water, the way people moved in nightmares when they were being chased by monsters.

Margo sighed and stood up from the tub, wrapping herself in a thick terrycloth robe. Reaching into the water, she pulled the plug and watched the water swirl down the drain and fought off dark thoughts, Piscean thoughts of gloom and self-pity. She was used to barbed comments and sidelong looks—some of curiosity, some of revulsion—they didn’t bother her as much as they did when she was younger. She was more distressed by the fact that she had completely lost track of herself in the Villa Harmony, had let her scarf fall awry and left her chart open to inspection. That was troubling.

You cannot let the beauty and charm of Lira make you soft-headed, she said. You have a job to do and the least known about you—or used against you—the better.

Set straight by her sensible Aries half, Margo felt a renewed sense of purpose and went into her sitting room, removed the notebook from her purple satchel, checked the time—one hour till dinner—and sat at the finely carved maple wood desk.

She gazed at her notebook, that trusted tool of the private investigator; it had been with her since the day she graduated from The Finders Academy, a gift from the close-knit group of Cuspian friends she had made at the university.

The notebook was very special to her. The red leather was a reminder of the Aries part of her nature, bright and tough. The clasp that held the front and back covers together was a golden fish. The Pisces part of her loved thoughtful, sentimental gifts.

Margo opened the notebook and began recording her impressions of the afternoon. Just the act of writing helped her to organize her thoughts and see a few avenues of inquiry, starting perhaps with the beautiful and arrogant Musette Major.

Glancing at the clock, Margo noted she had twenty minutes to get ready for dinner.

Deciding what to wear was no easy task when she was on assignment. Here in Lira, it would do best to play up her Aries features, rather than conceal them as she did at home in Imber City. The water people’s unblemished alabaster skin was hard to mimic, but now she could leave her face bare, exposing the natural dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks. No matter how Piscean and pale she was otherwise, her freckles were damned hard to camouflage with foundation and powder and, in wet weather, even harder.

I won’t miss the rain, at least for now, she thought as she painted a sheer coral gloss over her lips.

Margo went to her suitcase and decided on impulse to wear a red sleeveless dress. She put the dress on, and brushed her hair over her shoulder. The high, ruffled collar obscured her birth chart without looking like she was trying. Satisfied, she relocked her luggage, depositing the keys in the hidden pocket of her skirt.

Well, I’m all Aries tonight, she said to her reflection in the full length mirror.

She glanced at the clock again—one minute to seven!She better hurry. She hated being late.

The dining room was on the west side of the Villa Harmony. Dermot