“You see, Mr Occamy, it takes a powerful individual to bring forth something of such significance. You must have really wanted to find it for it to reveal itself in such a way, be it somewhat nervous but at least it made itself known to you. Usually a man with a past as vast as yours would go a lifetime not knowing the secrets that have been locked away, because it’s not everyday you find perfection and no risk is worth taking, no matter how curious you become, but today as you reflect, it has never been more prominent that this life you have is on the verge of destruction. We don’t know how long Kirsten has, and as each day passes for all we know, the next may be her last. What I’m trying to say is, in some instances a risk is the best chance you may ever have.”
Mrs. Jillings had spoken sincerely.
Robin scratched at his neck, riddled by irritation as he felt a cold wetness trickle down his cheek. As happy as he was, he couldn’t help but wonder where the next moment would lead, what was going to be asked of him as he felt the world he used to know shredding away, crumbling under his feet while moonlight continued to filter through the cottage, shining from the bedroom windows along the wooden floorboards and on to the carpeted hallway as the invisible clock began to chime, striking the nineteenth hour of christmas day - a day that could have been a week for all Robin knew, it had been long, tiring and it reflected in his eyes as he broke a yawn, placing his hand against his widened mouth, his eyes sore and flesh as pale as a corpse.
“So what happens now?” he asked, weary eyed.
“I was going to suggest that you rest, but I fear we’re already falling behind, Mr Occamy…”
“Please, Robin. Call me Robin,” he replied, assuring Mr. Jillings.
“I was given strict orders to make sure you made it back, when the time was right. The other two couldn’t have been much help,” she added, rummaging in her cardigan pockets, searching for something particular.
“They pretty much said the same thing, only they sounded like they were somewhat relying on you.”
“Did they really...” Mrs. Jillings chuckled, distracted by the nicknacks dropping on to the floor, spilling from her pockets as her hands scrambled around.
“Kenneth was more reluctant, he seemed set on me making my own decision on the matter, in fact he prompted me to pack my things and take off.”
Mrs. Jillings raised an eyebrow then reverted back to her search.
“However Magenta, let’s just say she couldn’t look Kenneth square in the eye for long, I feel there may well be history between the two?” Robin explained as Mr. Jillings finally drew a short looking chopstick from her pocket, no longer than the average pencil with tribal markings etched along the shaft. It was elegant and feminine, perfectly fit for Mrs. Jillings frail hand as she raised it in front of her.
“What you must understand about the two of them, they're both heavily set in their ways; however both perched on either side of the spectrum, they're not in the slightest way alike, except their unquestionable determination. Kenneth is the Informer for the Minister of Defence, not only for the Morient world but yours too, at least the one you've grown to know best. He chose to live here, marry a human and have children, a family. He settled down and ever since then he has been frowned upon by a minority. They say he’s incapable of his job, some even go as far to accuse him of meddling with dark forces, the people you described in the cloaks.”
Robin's body language had suddenly changed to a more relaxed stance, as for once what Mrs. Jillings was saying had begun to process correctly and it was no longer as complicated as it first seemed. Perhaps it was just her tone, the way she spoke like the telling of a bedtime story, it was beautifully crafted and he was eager to hear more...
“Magenta I assume disapproves of Kenneth's antics?”
“Oh she makes it very clear, although I believe it’s down to her other half. He can be somewhat, manipulative.”
Robin couldn’t help but feel curious.
“Who is he?”
“Leonard Silverstein, he works under the Minister as well. I know what you’re thinking, it sounds crazy but Silverstein is part of a special order that is bound by the morient world, he is Captain of the Enforcers but during the turn of events Kenneth had no authority over him, the Enforcer job role comes with its perks and the smallest of all men can be far more within those ranks. This is why you must be careful, Robin. Dark forces are at work, they never sleep, they never have. We’ve lived in fear for far too long, something must be done and it will take more than what you and I possess,” her voice trembled as she gave a gentle wave of her wand, flicking it in the direction of the invisible clock that remained shielded by camouflage.
A bright green spark of light suddenly burst from the tip of Mrs. Jillings wand and flurried against the rippling transparent mass, casting aside the enchantment, the cloak of invisibility from the tall grandfather clock, revealing the deep brown woodgrain and heavily varnished surfaces. It was now visible, Robin could finally see what had tormented him for so long, with its mysterious tick-tock sound and swinging pendulum, seeing it at last, it was far from disappointing, he thought as his face lit up with delight.
“It’s beautiful!” he claimed, peering up at the decorative hands as they sat five past the nineteenth hour on the face.
The build was impressive, it had to be at least a hundred years old yet it looked as good as new, now reflecting a moonglow sheen as moonlight flickered against the varnished wood panels and domed glass face.
“I feel like there’s something important about this clock, the way it’s been calling to me all this time, please tell me I’m right!”
“You are right,” Mrs. Jillings confirmed, reaching for the small hatch on the front of the tower unit and carefully easing it open, unhinging it from its stationary position against the clocks body, exposing the inner compartments.
An incredulous look washed over Robin's face as he peered inside. It seemed that there was something hidden, wrapped by a velvet cloth to protect it from the effect of years gone by - his excitement was building. Robin glanced across at Mrs. Jillings, then back again, reaching inside cautiously, keeping an eager eye for any cobwebs or spiders lurking in the shadows before firmly closing his hand around the silky smooth cloth, drawing it out from the dark compartment and in to the subtle glow of the moon as it bathed the cloth in silver light that seemed itself, cloaked in mystery.
Robin didn’t know what to do with the item, he was considering just handing it over to Mrs. Jillings but curiosity had already got the better of him as he slowly leaned in with his hand held close to his chest, and his eyes cast over the surface of the dark velvet wrap.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing,” Robin admitted, standing awkwardly.
“Is this mine to open?” He asked, looking Mrs. Jillings directly in the eye and unfaltering as she did the same, casting that expression of bewilderment as if she had never expected to be stood opposed to Robin as he clenched on to the most important relic of his time, as if it had only ever existed as a ghost of her dreams. She began to nod her head forward and back in a motion of acknowledgment while her boney, pale hand revolved like clockwork, urging Robin to unveil the findings beneath the shroud. He looked back down at it, allowing his thumb to wander over the silky texture, feeling his way around the items. One of them was soft to begin with but that could have been anything, however the shapes were rigid, almost rectangular and could easily fit in the palm of his hand, except for one, a solid elongated dowel with an exposed tip twinkling as moonlight caught the varnish coat that encased its inner beauty, the wood grain and the fluorescent green glow that seemed to seep through the cracks of ages - It was old, Robin knew that for sure as that incredulous look on his face began to soften, as silky coverings slowly fell away, leaving what seemed like the most important items he would ever hold, firmly in the centre of his hands.
There was a wand, a dark leather wallet fraying at the edges and a small round badge no bigger than a coin. Its dome
d surface twinkled as it rocked about in Robins sweaty palm, rattling against the shiny tin with its pin.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” He asked, glancing down at his hand.
“Well, what does it say?” Mrs. Jillings huffed, stamping her foot down on the carpet.
Robin raised his hand and drew the badge closer to his face while his other clenched firmly on to the wallet and wand, firmly yet gently, not wanting to damage them.
“There’s nothing, there’s nothing to read. It’s just a golden foil star, what kind of relevance could it possibly have?” he asked with a puzzled look, turning it for Mrs. Jillings to see.
Her eyes lit up, the golden shine seemed instantly familiar like she had suddenly been reacquainted - of course she knew what it was.
“Some items never require an explanation, for something such as this, it’s presence is its meaning, a code of conduct that has once been achieved by said individual.”
“Conduct? What kind? Good or bad?”
“That’s something you’ll later discover, Mr Occamy,” she said in a tone of disillusion, a tone that barely registered as curiosity got the better of him and driven by the need to know. Robin closely examined the items, rubbing at the smooth surface of the deep dark wallet with his thumb, before popping the press stud and pulling the two halves apart. He peered up at Mrs. Jillings one last time out of curiosity, she was still standing with a vacant expression yet he could tell, he knew she had a good idea of what he was about to find. She always did, it even seemed like she knew Robin Occamy better than he, however it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, not at all. It was somewhat reassuring, he felt as he looked down towards the unknown and flipped aside the inner sleeve of the wallet, then he carefully moved it under the silver beam of moonlight where his gaze fell on the illuminated credentials that sat housed in a pocket, secured by a leather frame that pressed around the inked parchment with its foil stamp of authenticity - It read:
Name: Professor Robin Occamy
Hometown: Leadworth
Permit of Morient tutoring
The Vinemoore Institute - Defence class
Valid until the 1965 reassessment period.
“The sketch looks like me, why is my mug etched on this parchment? I’ve never been to Leadworth, where in the world is Leadworth?” snapped Robin, taken back by the glare of his inked face, stained in to the fibres of the permit.
“Robin, there is a lot that needs to be understood. You’ve already come so far but the rest is too much for one evening and I know for sure it won’t be easy to digest.”
“I’ve done pretty well so far don't you think? Wands, magic and mad men possessed by the devil himself, how hard could it be?”
“Yes, you’ve encountered things you never believed to exist, a taster of what’s to come and I must ask this of you, please, place your absolute trust in me to advise the next step you take.”
Mrs. Jillings met Robin's gaze, carefully placing her hand behind the leather wallet and lifting it to a close, concealing the curious credentials.
“You must not worry about those, however I strongly urge you to keep them safe,” she added, pressing Robin's hands against the warmth of his chest.
“And, what now?” he said coldly, standing tall, dark and silhouetted by the window frame that had cast a glow along Mrs. Jillings brow.
“Now is where the real adventure begins, Mr Occamy. The question is, are you ready?”
She asked with a smile, with an uncertain future laid ahead with a seemingly willing Robin, unfaltering to the idea of tackling the impossible as he dropped the tin badge in to the deep itchy pocket of his trousers, followed by the wand and wallet that slipped perfectly inside his waistcoats breast pocket.
“It’ll soon be morning, by the time I’ve packed and said my goodbyes,” Robin thought, staring out of the window where the town lay dormant, sleeping and oblivious to unfolding agendas. It was never easy for Robin, leaving for work every day, let alone for someplace he had never set foot - or heard of for that matter. His stomach churned at the idea of going alone, stepping beyond the front door at the crack of dawn and leaving his family behind.
Being dropped like a stone in water was the very least of his concerns, even the likes of the monstrosities that dwelled in the pit of the land were nothing in comparison to the cold dark fear that had now risen up like a shadow that covered him - the thought of not coming back.
“It wouldn’t be fair,” he paused, “unless, you mentioned a possibility of finding some miraculous way of helping Kirsten. A stop to her suffering - tell me the chances,” he begged with an unsettled quiver of the bottom lip.
Mrs. Jillings stepped forward, her eye twinkled a spell of courage as Robin met her gaze.
“By all means there is a chance. Pushing aside the horrors that surround that place, the ever growing darkness, if you can look beyond it, it’s rather marvellous, really.” She said, pulling her cardigan tight around her neck and burying her arms against her chest.
“Wake me before you leave, this old girl requires her beauty sleep and I’d urge you do the same, get some sleep, that is.”
“Yeah of course, don’t stay up on my watch; however I doubt I’ll be getting any sleep tonight, I’m too busy running over everything I’m going to need, what to expect and what I’m going to say to Kirsten… if only life was simple,” said Robin earnestly - listening to the rhythm of the cottage, the creaks and fumbling patters as Mrs. Jillings disappeared in to her bedroom. She closed the door quietly, kicked off her sequin slippers and slumbered in to her soft silky bed sheets. Before a moment's passing, she was already sound asleep which left Robin as the last soul awake in the house, stood in the hallway as the clock slowly faded beneath its enchanted veil of invisibility; however the pendulum could still be heard, swinging to and fro, the floorboards creaking as Robin's feet pressed gently against them, making his way carefully towards his bedroom at the end of the hall.
The space was silent and empty, the bed sheets untouched like the ocean calm and a folded striped pyjama set laid unworn upon the wooden drawers.
The heavy door delicately came to a close, then there was finally peace, no longer any need for words, just comfort calling, as Robin planted himself on the edge of his mattress, head in hands, taking short, snappy pants of air which then transitioned in to long, heavy breaths that brought calming relief. Robin could now relax and lay across the vast surface of the bed. He laid there, still and peaceful, the whites of his shirt luminous against the dark that dwelled within the room.
Never had the sight of bland, blankness been so satisfying, nor so deep and dark and softly inviting to induce rest. For however long he chose to remain staring up at the ceiling, there were no worries, no concerns… no thoughts at all, just the absence of everything. It was like being swallowed up whole and suspended within a void of nothing - it was perfect.
He didn’t enjoy sharing it alone, far from it, but it was a required escape.
“If only I could take Kirsten and Em with me and run as far as our legs would take us,” he thought, imagining himself afloat in the vacuum of space, hand in hand with them, both.
“Kenneth advised doing a runner...” he reminded himself thoughtfully.
Now he was fully aware that the comfort he sought was beginning to wear thin as his mind began to unwind and set itself back in motion, there was no stopping it, he had suddenly become restless - it was no good.
Only ten minutes had passed before he was back on his feet, he jumped off the bed and fell to his hands and knees, reaching under the bed frame in to a cloud of shadow that lurked beneath it.
As his hand clamped about an object and he drew it clear, a empty green satchel emerged, its heavy canvas fabric creased and faded. Its age was more than apparent, it and Robin must have gone back a long way by the look on his face as he examined the inside, pulling at the lining. He shook the satchel and knocked away the last standing dust with his hand.
“This will do.�
��
Robin rose from behind the bed and quietly began to pack away his essentials. He couldn’t help but include a family photograph, the thought of leaving without one was already too painful to think about. He slipped it out from under his pillowcase and pressed it inside the outer pocket of his satchel where it would always be safe, then secured it in place by the two dark press studs, firmly popping them together and dropping the bag on top of the bed.
Perhaps now he could manage a nap, he thought as he laid back down, hands behind what felt like a clearer head than before. But he still had to face his future wife and his daughter - that would be the next challenge - but until then, he could feel himself slipping away in to a world of dream and much deserved rest.
* * *
When Robin eventually came to, it was no longer dark. Bright orange shone along the ceiling and water droplets tapped against the window sill, dripping from the overhead guttering that ran along the front of the cottage. The ice and snow had melted, the ground was now damp, littered by puddles that glistened. The sun was rising from beyond the ocean and edging its way over the tops of the chimney stacks that lined along the quiet streets of Vinemoore; all staggered like the motion of waves, soaring along the land.
Robin yawned, rubbed away the dust from the corner of his eyes and perched himself beside the bedroom window, watching as the morning arrived with a flutter; a swarm of pretty birds, darting high and low and chirping, singing the most sweetest of melodies.
Their red, yellow and blue feathers swooped past the glass aperture like a blast of neon energy, then disappearing beyond the cottage and in to the naked branches of the trees that arched over the garden fence.
Robin cracked a smile - a weary one at that. He stretched across his pine drawers and grabbed a hold on his silver pocket watch. It was dusty, the faceplate had a beautiful decorative pattern etched in to it, and it still shone bright as new after a gentle rub.
The Professor and the Starlight Phoenix Page 9