For Centuries More

by Ethan Johnson

  Jacqueline entered the living room in time to catch Lauren going through her things. “Put that down, Lauren.”

  Gracie wheeled around, stunned, then enraged. “Fortune? How did you… why are you… what the literal hell is going on?”

  “That,” Jacqueline said with an air of pained indignation, “is what I intend to find out.”

  CHAPTER 44: DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  James snuffed out the last of the incense rods and set about returning the meditation room to its original state. He tossed the pillows aside and gave the room one last look before leaving. There was a sign-up sheet outside the door. He checked it to find out who he and Aubra had inconvenienced by their impromptu takeover. He frowned at the blank sheet. Nobody.

  James looked both ways, then shrugged and added his name to the page. A pen swayed back and forth on a string when he let it go. After he stepped away, he doubled back and drew a line down the page under his name, capping it off with two angled lines to make an arrow.

  James took a bathroom break and returned to the room. He closed the door and locked it. He was told to meditate. He was told to ask for guidance. He decided he had all day. James was done with his scheduled classes, and even if they weren’t over, he reasoned, all they ever did was meditate about stuff anyway. He failed to see any difference between self-directed study and the official curriculum.

  James pulled a pillow from the pile and set it on the floor. He produced a fresh stick of incense and ran his finger along its edge. He frowned and put it back. He didn’t need all the fancy accoutrements Eddington Manor favored to facilitate a contemplative atmosphere. James laid on his back and put the pillow under his head. The leftover incense haze gave an otherworldly atmosphere to the room anyway. He didn’t need to add to it, he decided.

  James removed his glasses and set them aside. He interlocked his fingers across his waist and took slow, deep breaths. He’d need a focal point; something to start off with. He went with the first word that entered his mind: Agnes.

  His body immediately writhed in pain. James seized up on the floor. His mind was awash in frenetic thoughts and sensations. He heard screaming, but a frustrated scream, not terror. Words and voices were becoming more distinct. He couldn’t see Agnes, just a black void punctuated by gray clouds swirling around him.

  “Seriously, Fortune, how did you get in here? It’s not like Weirdness let you in here when she’s all zombified on the floor as usual and—what happened to the front door?”

  “I’ll reimburse you for the damage. But I am completely justified when—”

  The first voice was young, and angry. The second was more mature, and haughty. James began to perceive shapes and images through the dark fog. He saw candy wrappers strewn across a carpeted floor. He saw a hand bearing a yellow star tattoo and silver rings blotting up a spill with a dishcloth. He saw a pair of high heels worn by a woman with toned calves and a black skirt standing at attention beside the spill. A well-manicured finger wagged at a young woman who looked up and glared at the older one. She called the younger one Lauren. The younger one got visibly angrier when she heard that name.

  James was very confused as to why he was seeing this bickering and not Agnes.

  “Well, aren’t you special? She won’t lift a finger lately, and—oh, gross. Flush much?”

  The heeled woman followed Lauren toward the bathroom. “I can assure you I only just walked in before you did, and I’m quite capable of flushing a toilet. I don’t appreciate the accusing tone.”

  “I was talking about Zombie Girl.” Lauren crouched down and shook her sister. “Get up, Agnes. I’ve had enough of your crap. Literally.”

  Agnes! James felt an electrical charge shoot through his body. He was in the right place after all. He willed his consciousness to pass into the bedroom and found Agnes balled up on the floor. Her aura was inky black. James reached out for her. His aura glowed bright white as he drew near to her. He ached to rid her of the black thought forms that rendered her virtually immobile. The signs of prior activity around the apartment suggested she wasn’t completely helpless. Seeing her now, though, curled up in a fetal position, her face contorted in a death mask, James felt his heart breaking in two.

  “Agnes is not my primary concern. Where is Marc?”

  “Gee, the love, Fortune. I feel almost adopted.”

  Marc? Who is that? James puzzled over the name. Judging by the tiff that his name inspired as the two women paced back and forth while they argued, he must be their brother. And they’re all sisters. James was feeling caught up now. But what had happened to their brother? And did he have something to do with Agnes’s condition?

  James tried to tune in on that name. Marc. Where are you? Who are you?

  He floated out of the apartment building and saw a cluster of buildings glowing in the distance. James nodded to the light. Take me there. Show me Marc.

  A bearded man stood with his hands on his hips as the final brick was placed in a long sandstone wall. If James hadn’t traveled directly to the glowing buildings, he would have thought he had gone back in time. Little reminders of the present day could be spotted if one looked hard enough, such as a steel girder or a clump of disconnected electrical wires. The bearded man pumped his fist as the final brick slid into position.

  A woman wearing a green dress and thin sandals approached him. She wrapped her arm around his and pressed up close. “Is my Marc done with his labors? He makes time for Inanna now?”

  “Well, sure, I was gonna tell Tobias the west wall is finally done, but yeah, he can wait for a little while.”

  Inanna pouted. “Marc does not desire Inanna. He only gives her scraps of time, like a pitiful dog.”

  Marc winced. “Come on, Inanna. That’s not remotely true. Seems to me, I had the chariot rolling real good last night.” He mimicked a driver whipping a team of horses. “Ha-chaaa!”

  “You did not whip Inanna. No man whips Inanna. Only a god ever would dare.”

  “Well, uh, I mean… if you’re into that stuff, we could try it, but—”

  James felt something pull him backward. He threw his arms out to each side expecting to strike the bare floor. Instead, James felt hands pressing against his head. He looked up at the plain ceiling and smelled leftover incense. He spotted Aubra’s curly hair as he tipped his head back.

  “What did you do that for? I was getting guidance, like you told me.”

  Aubra stuck out her bottom lip and shook her head emphatically. “She is bad.”

  James rolled onto his side and slipped on his glasses. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the lenses. “So what? Lots of people are bad. That’s no reason to interrupt my meditation.”

  “She can do to you what she did to Agnes. Or worse.”

  “Huh? And who is she?”

  Aubra glared intently at James. “A goddess.”

  James scrambled to sit upright. He squinted at Aubra, then focused on the door. “Hey, that was locked. Is locked. H-how did you get in here?”

  “You needed my help.”

  “Huh? I never asked for any help. I wanted to be left alone. And you were mad at me.” He stood up and rushed to the door. He jiggled the doorknob. The door was locked and didn’t budge. He turned sharply to Aubra. “Seriously, how are you in here?”

  Aubra folded her arms tightly across her chest and glared at James. “I should be asking you the same question. You are unprepared. Nothing you do impresses me. You are not ready for the battles to come.” Her voice had a new resonance, almost ancient. James trembled at the sound of it.

  He adjusted his glasses. “What battles? I’m so confused right now. What’s going on?”

  “Ask for guidance,” Aubra said, simply.

  James balled his fists at his sides and stomped toward Aubra. “I am so sick of hearing that. I did ask for guidance, and you butted your fat head in my business just when things were getting good. So, here’s an idea: leave me alone. Go out the way you came in. Get out of my space.”

/>   Aubra looked up at James and stuck her bottom lip out. Her eyes burned with a fierce intensity that filled him with dread. They were alone in a locked room. James stepped backward and unclenched his fists. The best he could hope for was a graceful exit, but Aubra’s intense gaze didn’t give him much hope.

  Aubra nodded curtly and uncrossed her arms. She walked toward James and brushed him aside. He watched her lamely as she reached up for the doorknob and gave it a quick twist. She pulled the door open, then slammed it closed behind her.

  James felt tears of shame and anger welling up. They were supposed to be friends, he thought. They shouldn’t be fighting like this. But Aubra was so… annoying sometimes! He sighed and reached for the doorknob. “Aubra, wait. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  The doorknob jiggled but the door did not budge. He attempted to unlock the door, but the lock held fast.

  James fell to his knees. “Great. Absolutely freaking great.”

  CHAPTER 45: DINNER DATE

  Jacqueline smiled at a doorman, then frowned at Gracie. “I would think you’d have a more… appropriate wardrobe for office work. If we’re turned away because of your far cry from the dress code, I’ll be very unhappy. I’ve been looking forward to dinner all afternoon.”

  “There are other places, you know,” Gracie said. “And seriously, here? Who died and made this a hot spot?”

  “Babette’s comes highly recommended. And frankly, wine will work wonders. Ah, yes. Morris-Winstead, party of two.”

  The hostess smiled and punched up the reservation. “Welcome back,” she said with a nod to Gracie. “Your table will be ready in just a moment.” She gestured to the lounge. “In the meantime, relax and enjoy.”

  Jacqueline strode confidently into the lounge and picked out a Windsor chair. Gracie snorted at it. Windsor. The chair looked uptight, like other Windsors she knew. No wonder Fortune liked it, she thought. Gracie plopped down on a neatly upholstered loveseat and thumbed through the drink menu. “We have food at home, you know. We shouldn’t be leaving Weirdness home alone. It’s rude.”

  Jacqueline looked over the top of her drink menu. “You leave her alone all day while you work at whatever it is you do.”

  “I’m an office manager for a major corporation, dummy. I thought your business shows would have told you.”

  “Indeed, if office manager rose to the level of a featured profile on The Power Brokers. I presume this means you’re a data entry clerk for a small to mid-sized business.”

  Gracie gritted her teeth and sulked. “Mom told you.”

  Jacqueline laughed. “No, I’m keenly aware of your propensity for… embellishment.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s good money. I work full time and don’t have to deal with snotty customers. Well, not in person, anyway.”

  “Tch. Customers are the lifeblood of any business. You should consider them your most valuable asset. Without them, you’d be unemployed.” She looked up at a cocktail server. “A bottle of Chateau Bonne Chance. One glass will do, thank you.”

  “Yes, of course. And for the lady?” She nodded to Gracie.

  “Blast Maxx.”

  The server wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry, we only serve Popp products here.”

  “Fine, gimme a regular Popp. Easy on the ice. No, you know what?” Gracie pointed at the wine list. “Two glasses. We can share.”

  Jacqueline grimaced at Gracie, then smiled at the server. “Never too late to inspire a taste for the finer things. That will be all.”

  The server nodded and flitted away. Gracie tossed the drink menu on the low table between them and slumped in her seat. “Well, this is an awesome evening.”

  “Being that I’m paying for dinner, I would expect a whiff of gratitude. Sit up straight. This isn’t your living room.”

  Gracie grudgingly obeyed and drummed her fingers on the armrest while she waited for the wine, a table, or both. She didn’t get to check out the lounge the night before with Annabella. Things were a blur. Her stomach sank at the thought of her. They were over before they started. Trixie got in the way, and it was clear to Gracie she’d never step aside. She would always be more important to Annabella. The lounge was nice. It was dimly lit and struck her as achingly romantic. She hated being stuck in it with her least favorite person in the world. She’d thought she’d rather French-kiss a rhino, with a huff.

  A black-clad server arrived bearing an armful of menus. “Morris and Winstead? Your table is ready.”

  Jacqueline seemed to want to correct her but nodded graciously. “Excellent.”

  The server led them down the hall and to the rear of the restaurant, in a secluded corner. Jacqueline gave the server a perplexed look, then glared at Gracie when she removed her coat to reveal an outfit that only barely passed muster with the dress code. She gave a wan smile to the server and removed her own coat. She draped it carefully across the back of her chair and allowed the server to seat her, then accepted the menu.

  “My name is Linda, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. The wine will be out shortly. Would you like anything else to drink?”

  Jacqueline shook her head. Gracie frowned at the table. “Water, please.”

  “They bring that out as a matter of course,” Jacqueline said. “She is asking if you wish to drink anything besides wine or water.”

  Linda smiled genially at Jacqueline. Gracie waved her off. “I’m good, then.”

  “Very well,” Linda said. “I’ll check on your wine and prepare the bread service. Won’t be a moment.” She spun on her heel and marched off toward the kitchen. Gracie rolled her eyes. Jacqueline shot her a disapproving glare.

  “I expect you to be on your best behavior. And my generosity is not without its limits. I’m here for answers, and you’re going to tell me everything.”

  Gracie snorted. “Should I be tied up, or something? Then again, every minute with you is torture, so I’m pretty sure I’ll crack. Hurry up with that wine, Linda!”

  A server peeked her head around the corner and squinted. Gracie thought she recognized her, but her attention was seized by Jacqueline, who reached across the table and squeezed Gracie’s hands. She stared intently into her eyes and spoke in a low, urgent tone. “Lauren, I need you to listen carefully. Marc is wanted for murder. He’s being sued for arson and destruction of property. Mother has a stack of his unpaid bills. Oh, don’t worry, Richardson and I will cover them in the interim. But I need to know, and I need to know now, where is Marc?”

  Jacqueline’s intensity was too much to handle. Gracie looked away in time to see the server who had been checking her out from afar tapping away at her smartphone. She looked up from the screen and angled the phone to take a photo of the two of them.

  Shannon, that’s her name, Gracie thought. Jacqueline squeezed harder and shook Gracie. “Now, Lauren.”

  “Honestly, Fortune, I have no effing clue.”

  Jacqueline’s face contorted angrily, then softened instantly as the sommelier arrived with the wine. She slid her hands back across the table and rested them on her lap with a smile. “Chateau Bonne Chance, 2007, miss,” he announced.

  “Merci,” she said, eliciting another eyeroll from Gracie.

  He turned to show the label to Gracie, who slid her wine glass toward him. “Awesome. Fill ‘er up.”

  CHAPTER 46: REFLECTION

  James tossed his glasses aside in a huff as he laid on the floor of a musty and silent meditation room. He wrestled with thoughts of failure: failure to change stone into gold, failure to comprehend the various scenes he was seeing when he sent his consciousness out in any given direction, and failure to stay in Aubra’s good graces. He wondered why that item in particular bothered him so much. Who was Aubra, anyway? Where did she come from? Why was she here now? She never spoke about her past, not to him, anyway. Once in a while he’d hear someone speaking in hushed tones about her, eyes wide with awe. But why?

  He sighed and stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t too long ago that peopl
e spoke the same way about him. Mister Steele was especially encouraged at his progress, and his abilities. But what had he been doing? He’d been reading a book about Kundalini meditation. He found it in the library and flipped through the pages purely out of curiosity. He didn’t remember much about it, other than it being dangerous and best left to master practitioners, which was fine by him.

  Mister Steele asked him how his meditation was going, and James now realized the mix-up: he said meditation was challenging but he was on the verge of a breakthrough. He meant standard, run of the mill meditation. The breakthrough involved not falling asleep ten minutes into the session. Mister Steele must have thought James was about to revolutionize Kundalini meditation. He scoffed at the thought. He couldn’t pronounce the word, let alone attempt to meditate on it.

  But he had been learning during his time at Eddington Manor. Aubra’s abilities were far more advanced than his, by orders of magnitude. Even so, he’d sent his consciousness to a woman named Agnes. He saw her lying half-naked in her bathtub, afflicted by strange black blobs that tried to attack him as well. He managed to avoid them, only to be brought down by something similar much closer to home by way of the groundskeeper. A female voice sounded in James’s ear at breakfast one day and said, “Tell him he wasn’t wrong to let me in.” He didn’t know why he was the go-between for this message, but he did as he was told, only to make the groundskeeper angry.

  Nothing I do is right, he thought bitterly.

  Who is Aubra? Where is she from? James turned these questions around in his mind, and soon he was enveloped by black smoke. When it dissipated, he found himself in an ancient city. He looked up and saw armies taking their positions on the ramparts, shouting commands to each other and relaying news of an approaching army.

  An advisor rushed to the king’s side. James floated beside them and observed their conversation in the noonday heat. The advisor spoke.