A Room in the House of the Ancestors Books One and Two

by Melody Clark

  It was his fourth or fifth can of the worst energy drink he had ever tasted, not that the flavor of it mattered at all. He had used up about a third of his inhaler. The data on the screen had begun to spin together into pinwheels like a kaleidoscope he was dreaming. He saw Escher patterns tumble out of raw data streams – visibly, figuratively. He watched as white phosphorous dots merged together before his eyes. He covered his eyes, looked around the room, did everything he could to engage his forebrain. He tried to wake himself fully to the room.

  Tad’s loud, resonant voice bounced in across him from the doorway. “Edward, your two co-conspirators went back to the hotel around nine o’clock. Something about eating and sleeping, it seems, those self-indulgent weaklings.” Tad walked across to nudge Andrew, slumped in his chair. “Andrew, up with you, go to bed. Edward, the guestroom is down the hall. I’m afraid I’m going to have to shutdown this demoniacal workathon in my capacity as a physician.”

  Andrew had leaned forward, covering his forehead with his hands. He looked up, blinking repeatedly around at the light in the room. “What the hell time is it?”

  “2:30 AM,” Tad said. “By anyone’s measurement of sanity, that is on the south side of it.”

  Edward shut his laptop. “Very well, I’ll call a taxi.”

  “There’s a room for you four doors down,” Tad said, “I have already told you that.”

  “Thank you, but I need to work,” Edward said briskly. “So I’ll take it back with me to the hotel.”

  “Work?” Tad asked. “Eddie, it’s the middle of the goddamned night.”

  “Actually, it’s early the next morning.” Edward surveyed the sleepy man in the room. “Good night, Andrew, I’ll see you later in the day. Call me when you’re awake,” he said, and quickly left the library.

  He felt a sense of floating freedom, much as he often did when he worked in the middle of the night, but the rush was even greater as he walked quickly across the great room toward the front door. A palpable sense of relief swept him as he exited via the entry and walked down the pathway toward the gate. He retrieved his cell phone to make a call.

  His battery wave appeared dead. “Wonderful. Flatline. Oh, well, I’ll walk.”

  Tad had unlocked his small sports coupe. He opened the passenger door. “Edward, get in my car. I will drive you.”

  “It’s only half a mile, I’ll walk,” Eddie said, feeling a pressing need to stride down the path that turned toward the escape road.

  Edward kept walking, straight toward a distant glow he knew to be the first turn before his hotel. He would use it as a beacon. It would help keep him alert. Or so he thought until the sound of a car sputtered up behind him.

  The car slowed to keep pace with him. The driver was Tad, leaning over the passenger seat toward Edward on the other side. “I will drive you.”

  “I can walk by myself.”

  “Get in this moment, you thick, pretentious, arrogant ass,” Tad called back.

  Edward stopped in his tracks. The cool air, stinging his eyes, caused him to stare upwards at stars. He knew his eyes were filling with tears and there was little he could do to stanch them. An awful end to a terrible day. Wonderful – just wonderful.

  “What is with all the anger and hostility and confrontation with your family? I’ve heard all about English civility. I’m told you’re more polite and less forward. What happened?” Eddie shouted back.

  “You should stop watching Merchant and Ivory films. I’ll channel my inner septic now, just for you.” He jerked open the door handle to push it open. “Get in the fuckin’ car, you stupid jackass.”

  “God, I want to go home,” Edward said.

  “Has it occurred to you yet that you are home?” Tad replied.

  “Home is where people don’t throw you away.”

  “Not without getting some miles out of you first. Besides, I haven’t seen anybody kick you to the curb. You’re the one who left the house when I was showing you to your room.”

  “I was talking about the first time,” Edward said. “And I said I would walk and I will.”

  Tad hit the gas and the car lurched forward to turn and then block the road. When Edward moved up to walk around it, Tad lunged the car forward to block him again. When Edward tried to walk up and maneuver around the other way, Tad backed up. Again, Edward moved one way, was occluded – tried to go the other direction, was obstructed again.

  “We can go back and forth like this all night, if you like, Eddie. You think you’re a pigheaded stubborn bastard? Where d’you think you got it from? Get in the car.”

  Once again, Edward tried to move around on both ends. Tad once again drove up and back to prevent him from passing.

  Finally, Edward braced his laptop to his chest and rolled sideways over the front car hood, then jumped down on the other side to continue walking.

  “You stubborn asshole!” Tad yelled, leaning over the passenger side to continue the shouting match. “What if I run over your legs?”

  “Then I’ll crawl!” Edward shouted back.

  At last, Tad pounded the car horn until it screamed across the night. Lights flicked on in nearby houses. Dogs began to howl. Suddenly, he felt like the center of the universe, to which everyone was looking.

  “People are watchin’, Edward, we can’t have your right to privacy imperiled, can we?”

  Somebody switched on an outside light and walked out into their yard. Someone else did the same. There were voices trading words.

  With that, Tad blasted the horn again.

  “All right! All right! Stop it!” Eddie called back, climbing in the passenger side and slamming the door. “Are you happy?”

  “Of course! I’m always happy when I win.”

  “Shut up and drive, Toad.”

  “See, I knew you’d get with the program,” Tad said, turning the car to continue toward the hotel beacon.

  Edward bristled at every moment as they drove on. “You know, there is something I’ve always wanted to ask you.”

  “No, there is no Father Christmas or Santa Claus,” Tad said, continuing to drive down the road. “No Easter Bunny, too, I’m afraid. Jury is still out on the Tooth Fairy, I think, after watching South Park.”

  Edward shook his head, rubbing at his forehead, like he was trying to revive himself fully. He glanced over at Tad. “Why is it you hate me?”

  Tad’s trademark irritated glance veered back at him, but then Tad looked again at the road. “I don’t hate you,” he snapped. “Where in the hell did you get that immensely stupid idea?”

  “Gee, I don’t know. Let me think. The myriad emails ending with fuck off and die? The number of vitriolic voice mails you’ve left. Your Skype nickname for me – the Great Satan. Take your pick.”

  “Are you so bloody thin-skinned you can’t accept a little criticism?”

  “You call that a little criticism?”

  “Yes, I do. Everyone doesn’t throw garlands at your feet so they automatically hate you?” Tad turned at the appointed corner. “Andrew thinks you’re the Second Coming. James worships you in his own way, too. And Wilse is pretty favorably impressed. I feel it to be my job to take the piss out of you now and again. It I didn’t care, I wouldn’t even consider talking to you.”

  Edward looked at him directly. “What makes you think I need the – your word – piss taken out of me?”

  “You are the anointed dauphin of our industry –”

  “Not anymore I’m not. I’m an aging icon and sinking fast. Most of that was just Bakunin Systems ad campaigns. It’s all in your head. So because you think I’m great, I have to think I am? You think I think I’m fabulous, so I am arrogant?”

  “Look, you’ve been kept in a palatial estate with people to serve your every need. You were allowed to ignore the rest of humanity. Your adopted father made you the crown prince of his kingdom and –”

  “My
adopted father,” Edward interrupted him to say, “was the son of a Utah rancher. He was a good friend of your – our – grandfather, John. Our grandfather and my adopted grandfather came through times that made them the men they are. When Thomas and Andrew located me once, my father sent me to live on the Utah ranch for a few months, to keep me out of sight. Through no fault of my own, I wrecked my bicycle. Do you know how I was punished?”

  “Oh, I’m sure through some deeply cruel and unusual punishment as we all are at that indignant age,” Tad said.

  “My grandfather had a horse he would use for riding. He had a crop he used with the horse. My adopted grandfather beat me with it so severely, I couldn’t walk or stand for several days. That was the Bakunin idea of punishment.”

  “My God,” Tad said, slowing the car to a crawl. “Okay, there’s no way to quip my way around that one. That is awful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But surely he was prosecuted.”

  Edward laughed a kind of sad, stilted chuckle. “Are you joking? He owned the local sheriff. I was essentially told that I was a lucky kid and should count my blessings for having been adopted by such a wealthy family.”

  “I must admit that sounds horrible,” Tad said, shaking his head. “But my childhood was no Disney movie, I promise. We all have our crosses to bear. Mother died. Father drank for a time afterwards.”

  “When I was 12, I’d have changed places with you in a heartbeat,” Edward said, looking over at Tad. “Would you have switched out with me?”

  Tad tapped the steering wheel for a moment. Finally, he said, “No, I can’t say I would.” Tad reached down, picked up a package and tossed it to Edward. “Here, that’s an antihistamine, diphenhydramine.”

  “Thank you for the thought. And the ride. But my allergy meds are a lot stronger than this. I have severe allergies to about a billion things. I can’t take this anyway. That stuff puts me to sleep.”

  “That was a side benefit, too, yes. It’ll halt many of your worst symptoms until something else comes in. I’ll talk to your stateside doctor and –”

  “My own people will handle it.”

  “Will you stop?” Tad asked, turning right with a vengeance into the hotel parking area. He pumped the brake to make his point and stop the car. “Why do you have to put up a wall whenever we, any of us, try to help you?”

  “Where I’m from, that’s an intrusion on my privacy. We don’t accept assistance from others. It’s considered a sign of weakness. I can handle things myself. I always have.”

  Edward climbed out of the car, his laptop under one arm and the tremor in his hand becoming obvious as he found his room card key. He walked away and toward the hotel, without once looking back.

  “No, Edward,” Tad said softly, “I think it is becoming abundantly clear that you cannot.”

  Chapter Three

  He awoke with molten lead spilling into his forehead and sparks of flame burning straight through his first morning thoughts. A thousand hammers clanged against every raw nerve in his head and shoulders. The light spilled into his eyes and the pillow he grabbed for didn’t really block it out – and it was too white. The whole room, too. Just too fucking white. And it hurt a lot.

  He flung the pillow away and dragged himself up on an arm. He fought to remember where he had awakened and blinked hard to see around the room.

  Hotel room. Somewhere. Oh, yeah. England. He recalled now.

  “You finally back from the dead?” Ken’s voice seemed to pound in on him like the high tide.

  “Finally?” he croaked out a word. “Why? What time is it?”

  “What time is it?” Ken asked, laughing. “You mean what day is it. You’ve been asleep for eighteen hours, Eddie.”

  “I’ve been what?” he called out, crawling up, grabbing for the wall to keep from falling but tripping anyway.

  He hit the doorframe. Rubbing at the knee he had impacted, he dragged himself up again with the arm of a chair. He balanced only with maximum effort.

  “You heard me,” Ken said. “You got here I guess in the middle of the night on Monday night or Tuesday morning. It’s Wednesday morning, pal.”

  “Oh, my God,” Eddie whispered, raking his fingers into his thick blond hair. “How did I let this happen?”

  Ken laughed loudly. “How did you let what happen? You slept. You were tired. Welcome to the planet of the mortals, man.”

  “I can’t do that. Oh, God, does my father know?”

  “Which one?”

  Edward focused on his friend with a certain resolve. “That isn’t funny.”

  “I lied to Wendell,” Ken said. “I knew if I didn’t, you’d pitch a fucking fit. Thomas called to find out how you were and I told him the truth. I thought it would be okay to let him know you’re human. He seems to be in on the secret.”

  “I need my medication case,” Edward murmured harshly, grabbing his towel from the linen closet.

  “Arvo the Magnificent is on the case, so to speak,” Ken said. “And anyway, Tad gave you antihistamines when he drove you home. He told me.”

  “I can’t take those,” Edward said, pointing to the unopened package. “It’s diphenhydramine tablets. They’re weak and ineffective on allergies like mine.”

  “Yeah, plus they make you sleep like the rest of us mere mortals,” Ken said. “However, it seems like you crashed pretty hard without them. They’ll keep the worst of the symptoms away until we can hunt down your medicine case. Anyway, I don’t think I’ve heard you sneeze since we’ve been here.”

  Edward considered the assertion. “Yes, well, I’ve taken the medication so long I’m sure I’ve built up reserves. They must be keeping me in check.”

  “Maybe.”

  Edward reached for his grooming kit. “I’m going to shower and get dressed. Will you call Arvo and get an update on my case?”

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll also go find something for you for breakfast. You did not eat yesterday.”

  “Yes, I did. I must have.”

  “You didn’t. The day before, you drank about six cans of Red Rover, your drink of choice, and God knows how much coffee, but no food that anyone can remember outside of the corn flakes that no one saw you eat either. So, let’s try some actual eggs and things, shall we? You get ready. I’ll hunt food.”

  The shower poured hot and steaming water down on him until he could barely stand the heat. He endured it, enjoying the brisk sting of reality it brought to his skin. It woke him more, though it barely alerted the brain that seemed permanently fogged without his stash. Not that he was admitting that to anyone who wasn’t himself.

  Once he had dressed, he found his way to the front room and located his wallet. A knock shook his door.

  When he opened it, Arvo was waiting there, hands on his hips. He looked like a manic puppy just bursting for the gate to spring open.

  “Your medical case has been found,” Arvo said breathlessly, walking in. “I had your dad’s secretary search for it. Here’s the thing, Ed. She found the case in Ken’s office.”

  Edward absorbed the information and nodded. He rubbed the towel again over his head. “Yes, I thought it would be something like that.”

  “I’ll call your dad at once,” Arvo said, “I’ll tell him that Ken is trying to sabotage you.”

  “You will not,” Edward said flatly. “You won’t call my father and tell him anything in any way. Ken is my assistant. I will handle it.”

  “But he lied –”

  “I said it’s my call. My decision. Has Tyana shipped out the case?”

  “It’s going out express this morning,” Arvo said.

  “Thank you.”

  “If I can speak freely here, Ed, this is just way uncalled for. Ken seriously, seriously stepped over the line,” Arvo said. “That kind of betrayal should be dealt with and strongly. I recommend terminating him immediately.”

  “
I don’t really care about your recommendations, Arvo,” Edward said. “It’s my father’s company, my assistant, and my project, not yours.”

  The door opened and Ken walked in toting a box filled with sacks, cups and goldfish cartons. He looked like someone who knew he had just walked in on a conversation that had focused on him. He glanced from one man to the other. Arvo smirked through his usual annoying glare.

  “What?” Ken asked.

  Edward looked over at Arvo. “Give me a few minutes with Ken, would you?”

  Arvo turned his smug grin in Ken’s direction, looking for all the world like a child about to wail, now you’re gonna get it. “With pleasure,” he said and sailed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  Edward accepted the box from Ken’s arms and carried it to the small, square table beyond their kitchenette.