James felt like he was hovering. The floor ceased to exist. Physical reality was mere illusion. He felt the eternal part of him. He felt Aubra’s eternal self radiating across from him in warm waves. Purity of heart. Purity of thought. Purity of motive. He saw it written across the skies. He saw it in the face of the moon. He saw it in the trees, in a blade of grass, in a speck of dust.
Aubra let go of his hands. James heard rustling sounds, then something thin and cold tapped his fingers. He pinched down on it and felt a sharp burning sensation. He sucked in a breath sharply. Aubra’s voice was firm. “Do not let go. This is our key to understanding. Show us the wearer of this bracelet.”
Black smoke swirled around them. James kept his eyes closed, but he could see the streaks of smoke thicken around him and suddenly dissipate. A heavy-set woman in a black frock spoke to the countess.
“Gold, mama. She made gold right in front of us. Henry saw it too, if you don’t believe me.”
CHAPTER 37: DEBRIEF
The countess sat back in her seat, stunned. She rubbed her hands together nervously and leaned forward. She relaxed her tight accent when she spoke. “Bess, darling, I know you’d never fib to your mama. But I need to understand what you’re saying. You’re telling me Agnes made gold just… magically appear?” James was shocked at the change in her tone and demeanor. She was coarser now; nothing like the refined, worldly image she presented to everyone at the manor.
“No, it ain’t like that. She used a pitcher of water. I can’t figure how she done it, mama. She just said something first, then poured the water, then the eraser turned to gold, just like that. Like it was the most normal thing.”
The countess rubbed her temples, trying to comprehend what she was being told. James and Aubra watched the scene unfold like silent audience members at a play. They had no access to the innermost thoughts of Bess or the countess, but James felt he was seeing enough without the extra insight. He looked over at Aubra, who watched the scene wordlessly. She stared intently forward.
“Bess, I need you to tell mama what she said. Was it a spell? Was it something in another language?”
“No, mama, it wasn’t like that. She just said, ‘give me gold,’ or something like that. Honestly, me and Henry were so surprised at what we were seeing, I didn’t mem’rize what she said.”
“Well, you drove her home, didn’t you? Did you ask her how she did it? Did you find out if she’d teach you how?”
Bess lowered her head. “I brought it up, mama, but I’m ashamed to say, I… was jealous. I got mad at her and she said sorry. But she didn’t offer to teach me, now that I think back on it.”
The countess turned pink. “Oh, that evil bitch. After all we’ve done for her! I see how it is. It’s all take, take, take, and no give. Alright, if that’s how she wants to be, we can say ‘so long’. We don’t need her around here.”
Bess turned pale and dropped to one knee beside her mother. She pressed her hand between both of her mother’s. Tears welled up in Bess’s dark eyes. “Oh, no, mama, don’t do nothing rash. Maybe there’s a better way to handle this. Maybe this is all a big misunderstanding.”
The countess raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh, I understand just fine. She’s crapping gold while we struggle to make ends meet.”
“Why don’t you have her show you how she does it? She’s not like how you say, mama. She does everything Henry says. She’ll do as you say too. Just call her up and give her a second chance.”
The countess smiled down at Bess. She slipped her hand away from Bess’s grasp and patted her hair, regaining her composure. Her accent tightened up as she spoke. “Well, now there’s some thinking. Okay honey, we’ll try it your way. Maybe I’m being too quick to throw her out with the bathwater. I’ll call her in at once and ask for a demonstration of her… unusual talents.”
Bess brightened up, then shook her head. “No, mama, she don’t know you. She’s used to me and Henry. I’ll have Henry call her. She’ll say yes to whatever he says to do.”
The countess smiled. “No, Bess, let’s not, and say we did.”
Bess cocked her head. “Huh? It’s not a big deal. Henry won’t care.”
“I have a better idea. You’re the one who calls Agnes before you pick her up, right? Tell her Henry is sending a car to fetch her. Henry doesn’t need to know about this; not yet. I’ll get a personal demonstration, and I’ll get a feel for how cooperative Agnes is going to be.”
“She’ll do it, mama,” Bess said. “I’ll give her a little push, if she don’t think she can trust you. She’ll take my word for it that everything is a-okay.”
The countess tapped her finger to her lips pensively. “I like it. Most of it. But I want you to hang back. Leave her to me. If she doesn’t play along and give me an effective demonstration, you come in and give her that little bit of encouragement to put her over.”
“Sure mama, I can do that. I’ll tell her she can trust you.”
Her mother’s features hardened. “More talk isn’t what I had in mind. You’ll find a way to be more… persuasive.”
“Like what, mama, pull a knife on her or something?” Bess looked puzzled.
“I’m just making suggestions, darling. I leave it up to you how you want to persuade her to give me what I want.”
Black smoke swirled around James and Aubra. The pair found themselves back in their meditation chamber at the manor. James let go of the bangle. Aubra let it drop on the floor between them.
“Oh, Agnes, I had no idea,” James said. “I never would have… I’ve got to… I’m… I have no clue what to do next.”
Aubra held his hands. “What everybody keeps telling you to do. Ask for guidance.”
CHAPTER 38: THE UNINVITED
Jacqueline looked up at Agnes and Lauren’s two-story apartment building. She wrinkled her nose at the paltry shrubs that lined the front of the building to either side of the front entrance. She approached the front door and looked for a buzzer panel. Mother said Agnes had been job-hunting, but Jacqueline took a chance on her being home. Past experience suggested the odds were in her favor.
Jacqueline tugged at the door handle, expecting it to be locked. What sort of rental unit wouldn’t have at least rudimentary access control? Her residence featured a doorman and 24-hour security, but she and Richardson paid handsomely for them. This building appeared to be lacking in any sort of amenities. Jacqueline let out a scandalized gasp when the front door swung open.
She stepped gingerly up the stairs, not trusting them to remain intact as she advanced toward her siblings’ apartment. One of the stairs creaked and Jacqueline gripped the handrail nervously, only to have the railing creak and bend in response. She yelped and marched briskly up the stairs. Jacqueline found the correct apartment and put her ear to the door. She heard a television. Maybe Lauren was home, she thought. Or maybe both girls were out, and they were trying to fool potential burglars. Jacqueline let off a derisive snort. Anybody stealing from this place had to be truly desperate, she thought darkly.
She rapped at the door. It had a peephole installed. Jacqueline tried to peek into the bright spot of light in hopes of catching a glimpse of who would be answering her summons. The bright pinpoint dimmed as footsteps approached, then darkened completely. The occupant lingered at the door for a moment, then padded away.
Jacqueline relaxed her tight posture and said, “Hmph!” She rapped harder and shook her head before assuming her formal pose once more. The footsteps did not return. The bright pinpoint of light shined through the peephole unabated. She beat her fist against the door.
“Lauren, I would appreciate it if you would answer the door.”
Hesitant footsteps sounded beyond the scratched and well-worn door. The scrape of a chain lock sliding across the door greeted her ears next, and the door opened a crack, stopped short by a thin brass chain. Jacqueline stepped forward, expecting to be let in, only to be greeted by Agnes’s sallow cheek and sunken eye. “Morris residence.”
“You said you were here to see Lauren. There’s nobody by that name here. We don’t accept solicitation,” Agnes said simply, and closed the door. A deadbolt flicked shut and Agnes walked away.
Jacqueline was thunderstruck. Fine, so she didn’t refer to her youngest sister as “Gracie”. Did she ever? And since when was Agnes such a stickler for semantics? She fished her phone from her purse and dialed the number Mother had passed along. A phone rang deep within the apartment. Footsteps faded from the door, then the line clicked as Agnes answered.
“Morris residence.”
“Agnes, this isn’t funny. Let me in this instant!”
“May I ask who is calling?”
Jacqueline stamped her foot impatiently. “Agnes, I’m in no mood for—”
The line went dead. A door slammed from the rear of the apartment and Jacqueline squeezed her phone in disgust. She scrolled through her contact list and selected the entry marked MOTHER. The phone rang three times, then she answered just as Jacqueline was about to terminate the call.
“Jackie, I’m in the middle of something, here. Can I call you back later?”
Had the world gone completely insane? Jacqueline wanted results, and she would have them. “Mother, Agnes refuses to let me in to her apartment.”
There was a pause on the line. “Did you ask if you could come over?”
“What sort of question is that? I’m family, and I expect to be welcomed as such. Tell Agnes to open the door.”
“Oh, Jackie, I really don’t have time for this. You’re both adults now. Figure it out yourselves. Goodbye.”
The line went dead once more, and Jacqueline was left dumbfounded. She scrolled through her contact list again and hovered over an entry marked LAUREN – CELL. She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. The phone rang once and went straight to voice mail. Typical passive-aggressive games, she thought. She tapped the entry again. Voice mail. Again. Voice mail.
Jacqueline took one last look at the door, then walked down the stairs. She sat on the third step from the bottom and shook her head. Jacqueline Morris-Winstead was a name that opened doors where she came from. She picked up her phone and stared at the blank screen. She would not be humiliated like this. Certainly not by Agnes, of all people.
She tapped a search phrase into her phone’s home screen: LOCKSMITHS NEAR ME.
CHAPTER 39: WALKOUT
The afternoon didn’t go well for Gracie. She didn’t want to talk to anybody, therefore the work phone was exceptionally active. She didn’t want to do anything, therefore Jaime loaded her up with purchase orders and rode her like Warren once did. After Gracie routed her sixth straight phone call to Purchasing, Jaime was beside her desk, riffling through the stack of orders.
“Have you done any of these?”
Gracie checked her outbox. She picked up a sheaf of papers and handed them to Jaime, who rolled her eyes at the offering. “You sure these are done? Nothing is stamped. And… hey! I gave you this one ten minutes ago. Why would this be done before all of these?”
Gracie felt her cheeks burn. I need this job, she reminded herself. I’m grateful for this job. I’m just having a bad day.
“Look, I’m doing the best I effing can, okay? How about some help?”
Jaime’s eyes widened, and she took a step back and crossed her arms. She was still holding the wad of purchase orders Gracie hadn’t entered. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips tightened. “Fine, I can do your job. Guess somebody lied when she said she could multi-task.”
Gracie lowered her head, ashamed of her outburst. “I’m sorry. I’m just… it’s personal stuff. I didn’t mean—”
Jaime had returned to her desk. Gracie looked over at Cathy who shook her head sternly. The phone rang on Gracie’s desk, making her jump. “Get that,” Cathy ordered.
“Modern Roofing Supply, Gracie speaking, how may I direct your call?”
“Gracie, it’s your mother. Stop whatever nonsense you’re doing to Jackie and let her in to your apartment. For heaven’s sakes, you’re grown adults.”
Gracie fumbled the phone and stammered. “Um, what? Jackie who? What about my apartment?”
“You know damn well Jackie who. I don’t want to hear another word of this. She’s gone a long way to see you. Be a good hostess and knock off… whatever you’re doing.”
Gracie sat upright. “I’m working, Mom. Fortune never said anything about—”
The phone line clicked and went dead. Gracie slammed the receiver down and rubbed her temples. She couldn’t deal with this. Any of this. She expected to have a normal day at work and ended up with a total disaster on her hands.
She looked over at Cathy, who was deep in a conversation about an unpaid invoice. Gracie weakly signaled for permission to interrupt, then thought better of it. She walked over to Jaime’s desk and found her entering purchase orders with ruthless efficiency. She looked up at Gracie and said simply, “What?”
“I… I don’t feel well. Can I take sick time?”
Jaime sat back in her chair. “Do you have any sick time?”
“I… don’t remember. Please, I really can’t do this.”
“So, you’re quitting?”
Gracie gulped. “N-no… no, not quitting. I just need to go home and lie down. I’m having a really crappy day.”
Jaime rolled her eyes. “What about the crappy day I’m having? Maybe I should go home and lie down too.” She leaned forward. “How about you, Cath? Nap sound good right about now?”
Gracie wilted. “Please, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency.”
Jaime folded her arms. “A nap emergency?” The phone rang. Jaime looked at it, then up at Gracie. When she didn’t budge, Jaime reached for the phone. “No, that’s okay, I’ve got this. Go home. It’s fine. Whatever.”
Gracie felt ill. “I’ll stay. I’m just… I’m sorry.” Jaime waved her off and shook her head as she answered the phone in an upbeat tone.
Gracie shut down her computer and fished her cell phone out of her desk drawer. She slinked out of the office and trudged to her car. Tears welled up in her eyes. Today was supposed to be a good day, she thought bitterly. How much worse could it get?
CHAPTER 40: THE GUIDE
James shifted uncomfortably on his pillow. “Guidance. I tried that. Some weird lady with cat’s eyes told me to ask for guidance too, when I thought she was supposed to give me guidance, being from the spirit world or something.”
Aubra was unamused. “Have you reached out to your spirit guide?”
James looked confused. “My spirit what? No. Why, what’s that going to accomplish? Why can’t I just get a straight answer once in a while?”
Aubra’s gaze hardened, which James didn’t think was possible. “You don’t know your spirit guide? How did you get here without one?”
“My parents paid a boatload of money to send me here,” he said stiffly.
“Mine didn’t,” Aubra said. “We can use this room a little while longer.” She reached for James’s hands, and he pulled away.
“Hey, uh, this was interesting and everything, but for real, we should probably split up and do something else.”
Aubra grasped his hands. “This is for your own good, James. You’re too worried about what other people think, instead of doing the work you’re supposed to be doing.”
James smirked. “You mean, meditating?”
Aubra’s gaze penetrated bone. “Yes.”
She commanded him to meditate, and after his initial resistance to being cooped up alone with Aubra and inviting trouble, he soon found himself on another spiritual plane. Aubra stood beside him wearing a robe and simple sandals. James looked down to find himself similarly dressed.
“Do you like it? I made it for you.” Aubra smiled faintly.
James was relieved to not be naked again, and especially relieved to see her wearing clothes in this strange and ethereal
setting.
“Now what?”
“Now you ask for guidance.”
James looked around at the all but featureless plane upon which they stood. Though nothing was visible except for the most rudimentary details, everything felt strangely possible. He could construct entire cities with a thought. Flight required the mere intention. But that wasn’t his task here. Asking for guidance was, and he couldn’t imagine where it would come from. There was only Aubra and himself, standing on a bare floor.
“May I have guidance, please?” James put his hands together as if to pray and looked upward.
Aubra folded her arms and stamped her foot impatiently. “You should know better, James. You can’t get what you want if you don’t ask for it.”
“What? I asked for guidance. Where’s it at?”
“Purity of thought, James. If you want guidance, ask for it. Let your heart speak the words. Don’t let your brain ruin this for you.”
“I happen to like using my brain,” James said. Aubra stamped her foot again. James stepped backward in fear, then composed himself. “Okay, fine. You win. My name is James, and I’m here to ask for guidance.”
Aubra huffed. James could feel something resonant deep within himself. He knew what to say, but he’d been blocking the words. He stood silently for a few moments, then began to speak in a more reverent, respectful tone.
“I am here to speak to my spirit guide. I am ready to receive your wisdom. I am an empty vessel. Purity of heart. Purity of thought. Purity of motive. I am yours to teach.”
A giant doorway formed to his right. Aubra gasped, then resumed her stoic appearance. The door swung open, and a giant man dressed in fine robes stepped through the opening. “Hello, James. We meet at last.”
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