Flicker Blue 3: Momentum

by Brea Nicole Bond

  Chapter VI

  Revelations

  After being shown her room for the night, Jane had the rare opportunity for reflection. She was tired enough to sleep, but she feared the dreams that awaited her. Instead, she sat at the small desk in the guest bedroom and tried to remember everything she could from the last few days.

  Based on the last exchange of conversation between her godfather and Marcus, Jane gathered that the Book changed hands regularly—was passed from person to person like a supernatural Olympic torch. It was all part of the Curse. Uncle Mederick must have invited Old Moll, Lorena, and the Everwords over in order to find out who had possessed the Book most recently…we were pretty lucky, then, that someone had seen it only a few months before. We could have wound up on a trail years, maybe decades, long! The biggest question now (at least, the biggest pertaining to the Book) was how many times the book had been transferred between Old Moll and whoever had it now. Since November, somebody had given the Book to Old Moll, who gave it to Madame Antoinette, followed by Ahmose, then Marcus and Octavia, and now at least one more person.

  Every time Jane considered these exchanges, she was thrust back into the veiled memory of Officer Harris on her doorstep. She was still struck numb by the thought that the Book had been transferred to Madame Antoinette on the very same night. She would never have guessed that anything supernatural existed in the real world back then, but here she was, just a few short months later, chasing after the Book in desperate attempt to preserve her sanity, and quite possibly her life.

  Though the memory was clouded now, like she was seeing it through a dirty piece of glass, Jane relived it over and over again. She had been up late, reading of course, when she heard the knock on the door. There was Lucy’s dad, holding his police hat—Jane remembered that the porch light had gone out a few nights before, and she’d had trouble recognizing him at first. If not for the light of the full moon overhead, she might not have been able to identify him at all. What did he say? She couldn’t remember his exact words, as everything from that point forward was obscured in a fog of shock and sadness.

  The moon. There was a full moon in my dream, too. And Uncle Mederick looked at the moon tonight, when he spoke to Marcus. Could that be the secret of the Book’s exchanges? Was her deadline the next full moon? Hmmm…seems a little corny. Still, it’s an idea. Jane logged it away to revisit later.

  But why does the Book have to be transferred? That was another point that eluded her. If the Book was travelling somewhere, she might have understood, but moving from Paris to Cairo and then to Rome didn’t make any sense. Having made that journey herself, Jane knew firsthand that particular trajectory led nowhere.

  An hour or more passed as Jane tried to piece together the clues into answers that were, she assured herself, slowly revealing themselves. Eventually, her eyelids began to droop, so she settled onto the narrow bed without interrupting her train of thought. She fell asleep in a swirl of words…mortal…Compassionate…full moon…talents…. Even in sleep, her mind was too busy to dream.

  Jane was the last to wake the next morning. She took a brief shower and changed into fresh jeans (her only other pair now) and a simple tan t-shirt. As an afterthought, she added the Eye. It was a little dressy for her attire, but she didn’t want to risk losing it in her bag. It was Friday again, she realized on her way down the stairs, and the thought nearly stopped her in her tracks. Friday. Just one week from the last day of exams, from the dinner party. If they continued at their present rate, she might be able to find the Book, get the information she needed, and be home enjoying her Summer Break by the same time the next week. The thought improved her outlook considerably.

  The pendant drew stares but no comments from her hosts over breakfast. Jane ate in silence, but she was plenty entertained listening to the banter among the three old friends—even Octavia seemed to be in better spirits now.

  “Can Jane act as her own fourth?” Marcus asked before he had swallowed his last bite.

  “Yes,” she answered, though the question had been directed for her godfather.

  “Yes,” he agreed, “as you did last time.”

  “No. I have to learn how to do it the other way, too, and better here among friends than somewhere else, where you need to be the one to ask the questions. Besides, I know more now, so it won’t be as bad. I even figured out the moon thing last night.”

  “The moon thing?”

  “Yeah. The Book is transferred at the full moon.” Jane popped a small, cream-filled pastry into her mouth. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

  “It is. Very good, Jane. Do you know why?”

  “Well, no,” she admitted. “But I do need to learn how to do this, and I’d rather learn here than in the next Cairo.”

  “She’s right, Mederick,” Marcus said as he began clearing dishes from the table. Octavia joined him, and Jane realized that she had not seen any maids or butlers or cooks since coming to their home. The villa was large, to be sure, but simultaneously rustic—lived in. Everything about Marcus and Octavia seemed downright normal compared to the other Cursed.

  “Fine,” Dr. Sylfaen relented. “But we must stop if the pain becomes too severe.”

  The interview began as soon as their hosts returned to the table, and Jane was grateful to find that the pain was nowhere near as bad as she’d expected, though she suspected that her godfather’s careful questioning prevented her from feeling more than the deep, throbbing stab when Octavia (for it was she who had received the Book from Ahmose) revealed the name “Rosaline” to the Sylfaens. Jane felt her breath catch in her chest, her eyes fly open, as the pain radiated throughout her body from its contact point in the middle of her belly. Still, she never felt her consciousness slipping—the pain was present, but it did not pose the same danger with Marcus sharing the burden. The old man did not break a sweat at the exchange.

  When Jane gasped, Dr. Sylfaen released the hands of his friends, ending the interview. “Jane, are you alright?” He laid one hand on her back, so she could not see the blue light emanate from it.

  A hiss of frustration escaped her parted lips. “I’m fine! Why did you stop? I was okay!”

  As usual, Marcus interceded. “Peace, Jane. Your godfather has all the information he requires.”

  Dr. Sylfaen nodded grimly. “Indeed. Rosaline?”

  “Rosaline.” Marcus and Octavia exchanged a meaningful glance that Jane did not understand. Who is Rosaline? Are they afraid of her? There’s no way she could be as bad as the Egyptian. Jane surveyed her three green-eyed elders; their collective expressions answered her question for her. No, they’re not afraid…but they are leery. This Rosaline woman is not a danger, exactly, but she is likely to be an obstacle.

  Jane sighed. “So, where does this Rosaline live? Do we know how to find her?”

  “We do, Jane. Would you like to make a stop at home on our way? You could pack some more luggage there, since you lost your other bags in Egypt.”

  She was not sidetracked by his inquiry. “On our way? So we have to fly back to the States in order to reach her….” She retreated from the conversation, suddenly lost in her thoughts. From Paris to Cairo to Rome to somewhere in the U.S.? At least, somewhere far enough from Rome that stopping in the U.S. makes sense. Where the hell is the Book trying to go? What could possibly be its destination? Jane could feel six green eyes upon her, watching as her brows furrowed. She rubbed her temples as she concentrated.

  “Jane?” Dr. Sylfaen whispered. She raised one hand to silence him—she felt like she was getting close to discovering an answer, and she did not want to be interrupted. The path the Book is taking isn’t going anywhere. It doesn’t make a straight line to any destination. But why does it move from person to person, then? All the travelling from one place to another makes it so hard to follow, especially considering that each recipient of the Book has to reveal the name of the next. What if Ahmose had refused us before he tried to have us killed? He would have if not for the Eye.
And Marcus and Octavia certainly wouldn’t tell me where to go, if I were not travelling with Uncle Mederick. If anyone chose to refuse us, we would have had to start all over again…. It’s almost like the Book…

  “…wants to stay hidden—it goes to whoever will hide it best—like it has a will of its own….” Jane completed her thought in a muted mumble, but the smoke snakes lashed violently at her abdomen. They came at her so fast that she didn’t even see them coming.

  “NO, Jane!” Dr. Sylfaen roared, and he stood out of his chair at the precise moment that Jane dropped from hers. Marcus and Octavia were at her side a second after him. She could make out their faces, see them mouthing her name, but their voices were lost in a deafening buzz that filled her ears as her peripheral vision closed in. The rapidly narrowing tunnel reduced to a pinhole, and then all was black. And silent.

  “And you believe that is the extent of the child’s teleportation?” The liquid honey voice shot sparks of gold into the black void behind Jane’s eyes. She knew the voice, but she couldn’t place it.

  “I am not entirely sure. We are having difficulty communicating about the details, of course.” The second voice was beautiful as well, but it was husky compared to the first. It was familiar, and it conjured images of a wood paneling and the smell of dusty paper.

  “Of course.”

  “She will need you, my old friend. I cannot help her like you can.”

  Jane woke slowly, confused and unsure if the conversation between the voices was the beginning of a strange dream. What’s happening? Am I asleep? She felt oddly disconnected and disoriented. Maybe I’m dead.

  “Can she carry?”

  Marcus. For some reason she could not pinpoint, Jane was confident that the voice belonged to a man named Marcus. How do I know that? Who is Marcus? She focused on trying to remember where she had heard his voice before—how she might know this name.

  “I do not—ah, Marcus,” the voice she abruptly recognized as her godfather’s began to answer, but his voice suddenly sounded strained. “I believe my Jane is finally waking.”

  “Thank God for that. I will leave the two of you alone.”

  “Thank you, my friend. I cannot bear to think of what would have happened if she had been overtaken like this in less hospitable company.”

  “You will both be safe here, for as long as she needs to recover. Octavia may not agree that this girl should have been subjected to this life, and, to be perfectly honest, neither do I—though I do believe that you never intended it. In any case, what’s done is done, and it is too late for arguments now. Octavia and I will do everything in our power to protect her.” The golden voice became clearer, and Jane remembered that Octavia was the name of Marcus’s wife, and that they lived in a villa somewhere well outside of Rome. Rome?

  “I’m afraid that not all of our old friends will agree with your sentiment.”

  “No, they most certainly will not. But we are your oldest friends, and we will do what we can to help you and your child on this mission. Of course, you could have avoided travelling to Paris and Cairo altogether if you had simply contacted us in the first place, Mederick. It does not help your case with Octavia that you hid the child from us until now.”

  “I know, and I regret not doing so more than you can imagine. I was fearful of how Octavia might react, even though I never intended Jane’s transformation. But after so long in retirement…I never dreamed that the journey would lead us here, though I am beyond grateful that it has. I will do whatever it takes to regain your trust. And Octavia’s, of course.”

  “Peace, Mederick. All will be well.” The tenor of Marcus’s voice became even more musical as he changed the subject to happier matters. “When our dear Jane has come to, join us downstairs for an early dinner before the sun sets. We must begin planning the next phase of your journey.” Jane thought she heard a door open and close softly.

  Journey? Her head ached with the effort of remembering why she and Dr. Sylfaen had traveled to Rome—what information did they need?

  All of the shattered pieces of the puzzle fell into place in the next instant, and Jane’s memory was clear. The Book! They had traveled from city to city to track the path of the ancient Book that would finally reveal to her the mystery of what was happening to her, what she was becoming. How could she have forgotten everything? Oh my God, I passed out again, Jane thought. It was worse this time, though. I’ll have to be more careful. I have to keep my thoughts to myself, or I really will end up dead.

  As she prepared to open her eyes, Jane became aware that someone was rubbing the back of her hand softly. The dim light of the bedroom to which she had been moved blinded her momentarily after the darkness of her unconsciousness, but she could make out the silhouette of Dr. Sylfaen sitting on one side of the bed. “Uncle Mederick?” she whispered. Her voice cracked as if she had not used it for some time.

  “I am here, Jane. Are you feeling alright?”

  “Hmmm. Yes, I think so. I was pretty confused for a minute there, but I’m okay now.” Jane pulled herself higher in the bed, so that she sat up with her back against the pillows. The room spun a little, and she closed her eyes until she regained her equilibrium.

  “Can you remember what happened?” Dr. Sylfaen asked quietly.

  “Yes. How long was I out?”

  “Since the interview this morning. It is Friday afternoon now.”

  “We lost a whole day?” Jane began to panic—would her fainting incident cause them to lose track of the Book?

  “Calm down, dear. We were planning to stay until evening anyway. It might be best if we stay with our friends tonight as well, and then depart in the morning. Marcus is right; I have pushed you too hard. The Book will be of no use to you if you cannot make the trip. I cannot expect you to concentrate when you are this tired and stressed. And you must concentrate, or you will be overtaken again.” He looked down at her hand, which he still held in his own. His face stiffened, exposing the pain he fought back as his words became too dangerous to continue. “Please forgive me.”

  “No, I’m sorry, Uncle Mederick. I know I have to figure this out on my own, and I know I can’t talk about any of it. But I realized—,” Jane caught herself before the invisible scratching daggers stabbed her. She swallowed. “Sometimes, it’s hard to remember not to. Sometimes, when I realize something new, or finally fit the clues together, the pain sneaks up on me.”

  “I know. You are doing remarkably well.” His eyes, greener than ever, locked onto hers. Jane smiled wryly.

  “Why did it happen? Didn’t you know about the Book already?”

  “Many have suspected that it moves of its own free will. You, however, have confirmed this theory to be true.”

  “Oh.” The closer her revelations came to revealing true secrets of the Curse, the more guarded she had to be, it seemed. “So…can we go down to dinner? I’m starved.”