For Centuries More

by Ethan Johnson

  Gracie rubbed Agnes’s shoulder gently for a few minutes before speaking again. “So… what happened? Did that vet clinic turn you down? I mean, it was just part-time, but you really wanted that one.” Agnes shook her head and quietly sobbed into the sofa cushion. “Was it the dry cleaners?” Head shake. Gracie’s eyes widened. “Not the library!” Agnes shuddered. Gracie fell into a sitting position on the floor beside the sofa. “Oh, Agnes, that sucks. I’m really sorry… what can I do to help?”

  Agnes heaved another sob, then rolled onto her back, wiping tears from her cheek. “Nothing.”

  Gracie put her hand on Agnes’s forehead. “Holy crap, Agnes, you’re burning up!”

  Agnes waved her off. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  Gracie rose to her feet and walked quickly to the bathroom and returned with a thermometer. She held it up to Agnes’s lips. “Open up, we’ll see how ‘fine’ you are.” She jammed the thermometer under her sister’s tongue and told her to close her mouth. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and tried not to swear when she saw the time: 6:27 P.M. “You keep that there. I’ll be right back.”

  Gracie rushed to her bedroom and started to pick out possible outfits. She favored comfort over fashion, but she wanted to look nice for her date, which wasn’t looking promising. She didn’t want to leave Agnes home alone with a fever, but she didn’t want to cancel on Annabella either, especially after all the build-up throughout the day as she assaulted her phone. She tossed a few things on her bed and returned to check up on Agnes. Gracie pulled the thermometer out and squinted at the reading. “99. Not great, but close to normal. Huh.” She flicked her wrist a few times and put the thermometer back in the medicine cabinet.

  Gracie looked in the bathroom mirror afterward and ran her fingers through her hair. She wondered if she needed a full-on shower, or if she could get by with a wet washcloth and maybe a quick hair brushing. She checked her teeth and leaned in to examine her pores. She shrugged and ran hot water in the sink while she returned to Agnes’s side, who had rolled back over on the sofa. Gracie leaned over and put her hand on Agnes’s shoulder once more. “Hey, uh, Ag, I have a date tonight.”

  Agnes rolled onto her back. “A date?”

  “Yeah,” she said sheepishly, “it was really sudden, and I had no idea it was going to happen, but… well, it’s tonight.”

  Agnes frowned. “What kind of date?”

  Gracie smirked. “The dreamy, holy-crap-I-can’t-believe-it kind. You know.”

  Agnes shook her head slightly. “Know what? You haven’t mentioned anybody.”

  “Yes, I did! And you were there when we met, Weirdness! Remember, you gave me a big pep talk about ‘rah rah, go get her’ and then we moved to Chicago partly because of that? Sheeze.”

  Another tear spilled down Agnes’s cheek. “Oh.”

  Gracie glanced over at the path to her bedroom door, and then down at her sister. She hated to leave her, but she didn’t want to blow her shot at a romantic dinner date with Annabella. That reminded her: “Her name is Annabella.” Agnes looked perplexed but said nothing.

  Gracie returned to her bedroom and closed the door. A few minutes later, she emerged wearing different clothes. Her newest pair of jeans, black sneakers, and a buttoned down long-sleeved plaid flannel shirt. She swore and rushed into the bathroom and ran a washcloth under the faucet and shut the water off. She held the washcloth to her face for a few moments, then pulled it down to her neck. Gracie decided that was going to have to be good enough. She tossed the washcloth into the bathtub and brushed her hair a few times. She dropped her hair brush onto the counter top and turned off the lights.

  Agnes was lying on her left side when Gracie walked back into the living room. “That looks nice.”

  Gracie looked down and shrugged. “It’s all I’ve got.”

  “It’s nice.”

  Gracie ran her hands down the sides of her shirt, trying to press out any wrinkles. She sighed and looked apologetically at Agnes. “Is it going to be okay if I go out tonight? I don’t want to leave you alone if you’re sick. But… oh, man, this sucks!”

  Agnes gave her a dull stare. “I’m fine.”

  “Don’t say that, Agnes. Seriously, if I need to cancel I will.”

  “I’m fine. You go ahead.”

  Gracie inhaled to speak again, when her phone beeped. She patted her pockets, then realized she had left it on her bed. She hurried into her bedroom and scooped up her phone.

  7:01 PM: Ready?

  Gracie felt her stomach flip, and she tapped out a reply.

  I can’t, I’m sorry. My sister is sick and I have to take care of her.

  She walked slowly into the living room and found Agnes staring impassively forward. Gracie crouched down beside her and stroked her damp hair. “I’m staying home.”

  Fresh tears slid down Agnes’s nose. “Don’t do that. I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re not fine, Agnes.”

  Agnes sat up and shook her head. “I’m just going to bed. You go have fun. I’ll be fine.”

  Gracie nodded dumbly as Agnes padded softly to her bedroom and closed the door. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and tapped the screen furiously with her thumbs. She swallowed hard and tapped the screen again. After a final tap of the screen, she slipped her phone back into her pocket.

  7:04 PM: On my way. Where?

  CHAPTER 18: PURIFICATION

  James turned in early. Ever since the afternoon he had been feeling run down, like he was catching a cold. Aubra made him feel better, which was strange, but the thought of her kissing his cheek sent a thrill through him, which was altogether pleasant and disconcerting. Up until now, he never had feelings for underage girls. Heck, any girls. He intended to sort through his thoughts and feelings and guard against any unwelcome distractions from his studies. James had felt a sense of isolation at Eddington Manor, and having friends of any age and gender was a welcome development, but he didn’t want to cross any lines that were best left alone.

  James laid on his slim bed and stared at the gray ceiling. He saw shapes glide back and forth and had a fleeting recollection of being smothered by something dark, blacker than the deepest black. He felt a sense of dread and put his glasses back on. James followed the shadows on the ceiling across the room to the window and felt foolish as he made the association that a light was casting shadows from a nearby tree into the room. He got out of bed and pulled the curtains closed, then slipped back under the covers, tossing his glasses aside on his bedside table.

  James found that his thinking was clearer now, and his thoughts turned to something the countess had told him: there were others who could turn stone into gold. Aubra had given him one lead—Agnes—but he didn’t see any signs of such an ability when he found her passed out in her bathtub. Her bedroom was sparsely appointed, and overall, nothing about her apartment suggested that she had wealth of any sort. Maybe she kept her abilities hidden? But why? James rolled his eyes, answering his own question. If he ever acquired such an ability, wouldn’t people want him to make them rich? He wondered about the countess for a fleeting instant, and concluded her motives were purely aimed at his spiritual development. He mentally tucked away a question he would ask her at his next available opportunity.

  James thought back to his visit to Agnes, and the notebook that sat neatly on her desk. What is Image? He remembered the question but did not recall an answer. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, focusing on his inquiry. Gray smoke swirled around him, and he felt weightless. He felt himself floating, then becoming heavier, and falling. He landed in darkness and felt hot sand under his palms. The smoke dissipated, and before him stood a woman wearing green robes, with long flowing purple hair that hung well below her waist. Her skin was nearly pale, smooth and lustrous. She smiled at him thinly and extended her hand.

  James looked down and saw that he was naked once more. He covered himself awkwardly.

  You are not normally so mo
dest, James.

  “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

  You have other options with respect to your appearance. For example, this is the form I have chosen, however in my natural state such forms are unnecessary. I am unconcerned with your appearance, but if it is causing you discomfort, I suggest that you dress appropriately.

  “S-sure, yes, of course.” He ran his palms down along his bare chest and covered himself in dusty red robes, with modest sandals.

  You take the form of a pupil. It suits you, but you are not my pupil, though I have come to teach.

  “Who are you?”

  You know that already. Come, I will show you what you wish to see. She took his hand, and he caught sight of her eyes. They were not human, rather in the shape of cat’s eyes. She led him across a stretch of desert to the edge of a steep cliff, which looked out upon a sea of fog. James tilted his head and wondered what the fog was obscuring. The purple-haired woman smiled and held out her left hand invitingly.

  James frowned. “What is this?”

  Whatever you desire it to be. I have provided a place for us to meet, at your urging, now you must decide what it is I am to show you.

  “Agnes.”

  As you wish. The fog swirled, and the desert sand became low-pile carpeting. The endless horizon was replaced with painted walls, and before them was a familiar bed, with a woman stretched out upon it wearing plain clothing and bare feet, sobbing uncontrollably into her pillow. James’s heart ached at the sight of her. He turned sharply to the purple-haired woman.

  “She’s in pain. Can’t you help her?”

  The woman shook her head sadly. I cannot.

  James turned once more to Agnes, and knelt beside her, trying to stroke her back. His hand felt an intense burning sensation, but he tried to ignore it. He spoke softly to her, trying to console her despite his ethereal form. “It’s going to be okay. We’re… I’m here to help you. Tell me what I can do.” His ethereal form was tinted with a thin layer of darkness, but it was replaced by a bright outline of pure white light. He stroked her back over and over, and as he did, the burning sensation lessened in his hand. He noticed that a black smoky wisp was rising from her back as he stroked it tenderly. Agnes stopped sobbing and shuddered. James felt a wave of compassion and concern surge through him as he saw her condition improve ever so slightly. He turned to the purple-haired woman imploringly. “Please tell me what to do. I’ll do anything. Please, tell me.”

  The woman clasped her hands before her. Ask for guidance. She smiled and disappeared.

  “I am!” James felt a rush of annoyance at being given a conundrum but no answers, and then he looked around the bedroom and came to an understanding: The stone and the gold was a conundrum without an answer. That was what the countess was teaching him, without explanation. He felt a warm sense of accomplishment and looked forward to their next session.

  He returned his attention to Agnes, who slept soundly. He tried to stroke her hair, but his hand could only pass through her in the general area of her head. A thicker black form rose from her back and spilled down the side of the bed. James leaned forward and spoke softly into her ear. “I don’t know who you are, and you don’t know who I am. I found you for a reason. Whoever you are, I want to take this pain from you. I want you to be happy and lead a full life.”

  As he spoke, the black shape found his knees, and attempted to slip into his ethereal form, tinting it black like a wet paintbrush dipped into a glass of water. The white light repelled the dark thing, which crawled around on the bedroom floor, looking for something—or someone—else.

  James felt it odd, but an overwhelming sensation of love began coursing through him. Back in his bedroom at Eddington Manor, his physical body smiled and crossed his arms upon his chest, palms pressing against his shoulders. He whispered, “I’m here, I’m going to help you, and I love you.”

  A dark shadow fell upon him where he laid.

  In his ethereal form, James stroked Agnes’s back over and over, repeating his mantra. Despite his earlier annoyance, he took a moment and thanked Image for her assistance. He looked up and asked for guidance. A voice responded, but it didn’t seem to come from above.

  “Purity of heart.”

  James looked down, wondering where the voice had come from. “Uh, um, what was that?”

  Agnes sucked in a deep breath and pressed her cheek into her pillow. “Purity of heart,” she repeated, just above a whisper.

  “Purity of heart,” he said, and felt a warmth surging through his midsection. “Purity of heart,” he said again, and the warm sensation continued. It was unlike anything he had felt before. He repeated this new mantra and enjoyed the new sensations as he tended to his sleeping damsel.

  Back at the manor, Gene smirked as James’s right hand sat in a pan of warm water. He smelled a distinctive odor emanate from under the covers, and he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door quietly.

  “That’ll teach you to stick your nose in my business, you freak.” He walked quietly down the hallway and down the stairs. He made his way back to his personal quarters and reached for the door knob. As he did, another hand came down upon his, startling him. He yelped and turned sharply to find Aubra standing there in her nightgown, arms crossed tightly, and shaking her head slowly as she glared at him with utter contempt. “What’s your fricking problem, twerp?” Gene huffed.

  “You are,” she said.

  CHAPTER 19: DATING BEHAVIOR

  Gracie wouldn’t admit to this, but truthfully, she felt a pang of disappointment when she pulled up to the address that Annabella sent her. She had expected a spooky house on a hill with bare trees and a single window with a yellow-orange glow flickering behind a drawn roller shade, with a black hearse in the driveway and a black cat slinking around close to the house. Instead, the building was an unassuming cube of apartments, three stories tall. Gracie worked out that there were four units per floor. She parked her car in the lot behind the building and sent Annabella a text.

  7:31 PM: Finally here!

  Gracie wasn’t sure if she should walk up to the building and find Annabella’s buzzer, or what. Her own apartment was not so fancy as to have a controlled access door. She realized that she didn’t know Annabella’s last name, so it was best to sit tight and await further instructions. Her phone beeped almost immediately after she made that decision.

  7:32 PM: Here I come!

  Gracie craned her neck to check the rear-view mirror. There weren’t any spots available close to the building, so she parked across from the entrance. Her chest tightened as she saw stiletto-heeled feet appear on the stairs, followed by a shapely pair of legs. She bared her teeth and checked for any debris in the mirror. Annabella clip-clopped across the parking lot and pulled the passenger side door open. She sat down beside Gracie and gave her a bright smile. “Hey, you.”

  “Um, hey.” Gracie looked her up and down.

  Annabella caught her gaze, and patted her head, checking her hair. “Sorry, had a late client. I didn’t have much time to change into anything else. So, this will have to do.”

  Gracie felt her cheeks burn. “You look great.” She looked down at her own casual attire. “Sorry, this is the best stuff I’ve got.”

  “Don’t apologize.”

  “Well, I just feel so… underdressed. You have such… sexy clothes and I feel like a total noob.”

  Annabella winked at her and leaned over. She squeezed Gracie’s chin with her thumb and forefinger and said, “Are you a total noob?”

  Gracie gulped. “N-no.”

  Annabella kissed her, then patted her own thighs. “Let’s get going. I’m starving.”

  Gracie stared at her dumbly for a moment, struggling with the realization that her dream woman was in her car, and they were going on an actual date. She fumbled around with the steering column and found her keys. She fired up the ignition and got them on their way to the restaurant in short order.

  After a few minutes, Annabella brok
e the silence that was amassing between them. “So. Would you like to tell me where we’re going?”

  “Huh? Oh, it’s this place called Babette’s. It’s in…”

  “I know where it is. Turn left at the next stoplight.”

  “But the map said to take…”

  Annabella gave her a patient smile. “If you want to get there on time, turn left here.”

  Gracie obeyed.

  Annabella acted as her personal GPS, calling out turns and instructions, mixed together with idle chit-chat. Gracie expected that they’d ask all sorts of personal questions of each other over a quiet romantic dinner, and didn’t want to burn through her informal list of topics she had thought up throughout the day.

  They pulled up to the restaurant, and a valet approached her car with an expectant air. Annabella told her to wave him off, then directed her to park in the self-parking lot. “We can walk. Much more time together.” Gracie nodded.

  They walked toward the restaurant, and Annabella had a bit of difficulty with the gravel section of the lot that Gracie had been relegated to, but after she hooked arms with Gracie, she was able to walk safely over to firm cement. A doorman pulled the entrance open for them, and Gracie noticed a brass plaque that read DRESS CODE IN EFFECT – APPROPRIATE ATTIRE REQUIRED. They approached the hostess stand and a pert woman with raven black hair pulled into a tight pony tail wearing a white dress shirt covered with a sharp black blazer pinned with a brass name tag looked up.

  “Good evening. Do you have a reservation?”

  Gracie cleared her throat. “Yeah. Morris, party of two?”

  The hostess’s face glowed blue as she scrolled through a list on a tablet. “Lauren?” Gracie figured she had to use the name on her debit card to make the reservation.