Archanum Manor

by Michael Pierce

  He needed to see some familiar faces. Eli pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts list.

  “Hey Derek...nope, not dead. It’s a long story. I won’t bore you with it now. You’re coming out tonight...I don’t care what you’ve got planned. Cancel it. And you probably won’t make it to school tomorrow, either. Just saying...I won’t take no for an answer. Come up to LA. Meet me at the Ritz...yeah, you heard me. Ask for me at the front desk. They’ll let you up...The Ritz-Carlton Suite. The whole top floor...no, I’m not fucking with you. And guess what, I’m in a limo right now...totally. It’s ours for the night. We can do whatever the hell we want. Invite Mike and Todd, too, and whoever else you want—just get here.”

  Eli hung up and scrolled through the list again, found the name he was looking for, and hit the call button.

  The phone rang four times.

  “Hey Anna...”

  20

  Let Go

  Walking through the camp, I was attacked by two overly affectionate dogs. It was Frolics and Frolics—a very odd-looking duo. Frolics the cocker spaniel hopped like a pogo stick at my left leg while Frolics the golden retriever repeatedly pawed at my right, with his whip of a tail kicking up dirt.

  Darius’s sister, Amber, came running with at least one leash folded in her hand.

  “They’re so fast,” she said, panting.

  “Well you’re doing a great job taking care of them,” I said. “Are you keeping their names straight?”

  “They have the same name,” she said and laughed. “It’s so silly.”

  “Yeah, we’ll need to do something about that.” I knelt down and let both dogs lick me wherever they could reach. Frolics the larger got me in the face while Frolics the smaller just slimed my hand. “It’s good to see you guys, too.”

  After my short detour, I continued to the building with no door. I checked for passersby, found that the coast was clear, and stepped through the wall.

  Desiree was lying in bed, where I figured Nicholae had placed her before we left. I had hoped to find her awake with her memory regained, but deep down, I knew that was asking for too much. Matilda had made no progress locating Desiree’s daediem while we were away, though I guessed she didn’t even look.

  “I thought I’d find you here.”

  I didn’t even have to turn around. “You followed me?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Gordon said. “But I had already found her. I was this close to taking her home myself, but I know you didn’t do this on your own. Nicholae has his hand in this.”

  “It wasn’t his idea. It was mine,” I said. “Did Matilda tell you?”

  “No. Oliver, look at me.”

  I apprehensively turned. He looked like my teacher again. All I could read on his face was disappointment.

  “What are you doing?” Mr. Gordon remained across the room.

  “We can get her back—I can get her back.”

  “And this is how you want to do it? You’re stealing her life, her freedom, her dignity. Even if you can bring her memory back, you want her to remember what you’ve done to her?”

  “She’d understand. We were in this together. And besides, if that was a problem, you could erase that part.”

  “No,” Mr. Gordon said.

  “Nicholae then.”

  “This isn’t right. Let her go. What’s meant to happen will. You have to trust in that.”

  “I know, I know. Accidents don’t just happen. But right now, I’m still in control,” I insisted.

  “No, you’re not,” Mr. Gordon said solemnly. “You have to let her go. I can’t do it for you.”

  “We’ll find her daediem and then everything will be okay.”

  “You’re sounding and acting more and more like them. I saw it in the asylum. Seeing her here. Is this who you want to be?”

  “Who?” I asked.

  Mr. Gordon sighed. “I’ve known Nicholae for a long time, but there are quite a few things we don’t see eye-to-eye on because we’re fundamentally different. He slew his daediem a number of lifetimes ago. It’s what makes the Lornes who they are. They generally have good intentions, but they’re more concerned with the result than the process. People get hurt along the way. You’ve seen that. How do you feel about hurting people along the way?”

  “I don’t want to intentionally hurt anyone.”

  “Even if it means not getting what you want?”

  I turned back to look down at Desiree’s sleeping body. “I love her.”

  “Then let her go,” Mr. Gordon said.

  “I can’t give up on her.”

  “Letting go and giving up are two separate things. You’re hurting her. And if you can’t see that…” He trailed off. “We started this journey together, the three of us. If you can’t see that you’re hurting her now, then I’m done. I’ll leave and never mention I found her here.”

  “What were you expecting? You were training me to be like my father.”

  “Not exactly.” Mr. Gordon turned to leave.

  “No,” I said abruptly. “Don’t go.”

  “Why not?”

  “Nicholae said I’d never get a Lorne tattoo. And through most of this, I thought I wanted one. It felt good—the power I had in Provex City with the one Desiree had drawn for me. But I don’t think I want one anymore. You know, I’d probably turn it down if it was offered to me now.” I was still wearing the medallion and pulled it out from under my shirt. “Do you know who the Archanums are?”

  “I’ve heard the name before,” Mr. Gordon said.

  “This is from them, from their plane.” I held it up so he could get a better look. “A woman died for this so I could have it. She didn’t have to…and she died horribly. Just so it could be given to me. This stupid piece of metal. I—I don’t want to do that to someone else, to get to the point where that feels okay. Don’t go.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Can you make her forget all this…what I’ve done to her?”

  Mr. Gordon nodded.

  “Then I release her,” I said meekly. “Please take her home. I don’t want to come with you, but can I at least say goodbye?”

  Mr. Gordon walked up to the bed and laid a hand on her forehead. Moments later she blinked her eyes open. Her whole body shook with the sight of us. She brought her hands up from under the blanket. When she found them empty she seemed crestfallen. I knew what she was hoping to find, but this time I had left my gun in my room. Her eyes were nearly popping out of her head in surprise and frustration.

  “Where is he?” she croaked.

  “Everything’s fine,” Mr. Gordon said. “In fact, I’m here to take you home.”

  “He said that before.” She was still talking about Nicholae.

  “I know, but this time it’s true. I promise. Oliver is just here to say goodbye and then you and I are walking out that door together.” Mr. Gordon pointed to the wall behind him, and sure enough, the door had returned.

  It reminded me of our long-lost sessions in his classroom and the door to the Room of Enlightenment. Those days seemed like a lifetime ago. And in that moment, seeing her again, seeing the three of us alone together in the same room, I would have given anything to get those days back.

  “You mean it?” she asked skeptically. “This isn’t another cruel joke?”

  “You have my word,” Mr. Gordon said.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “For everything. You don’t have to forgive me. I just wanted you to know. I have so much respect for you and I shouldn’t have put you through this. I’m sorry.”

  She was listening to me and seemed to even consider my apology, but she didn’t say a word.

  “Is there anything else you want to say before we go?” Mr. Gordon asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “How about you, Miss Behring?”

  “No,” Desiree said.

  “Then I believe it is time to get you home.”

  Desiree didn’t protest me packing the few belongings I’d br
ought for her, nor did she say anything about me taking the Elliott Smith button.

  “Just a token,” I said and handed over her purple backpack.

  She tossed a strap over one shoulder, refusing to meet my eyes.

  Mr. Gordon held the door open.

  “Goodbye,” I said as she headed for the exit.

  She glanced back, but that was the only acknowledgement I received. The door swung shut and they were gone. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so alone. I stood in the tiny one-room building, staring at the closed door, memorizing my last glimpse of the beautiful Desiree Behring.

  I let gravity drop me onto the bed. I sat for a while, dividing my attention between the door and the button in my hand like a lovesick puppy. When it became too much to remain seated, I sank further and curled up with Desiree’s pillow. It still smelled like her. I squeezed the button tight and the pillow tighter.

  I didn’t like who I was becoming any more than Mr. Gordon did. I was changing, and it wasn’t for the better. I finally considered Mr. Gordon being asked to be a Lorne and turning the opportunity down—the kind of opportunity no one in their right mind would refuse. But maybe he was the one in his right mind.

  I thought of Nero and his obsessive addict behavior and finally saw myself turning into him—maybe not quite in the same way—but plagued with growing obsessions all the same, building obsessions. Building. And building. And building. Building without constraints. I was becoming one of those—builders.

  I needed to let go. Mr. Gordon had said as much, and so had the Archanums. They had taught Kafka to kill his daediem and I could only assume it was a lesson from personal experience. But their daediems were right there, on the throne room steps. Alive. Not in control.

  Back in that prison of an apartment, Nero was in charge—and the irony was, he still was. I couldn’t hear him any longer. I couldn’t feel him. But I could sense him. The stories were true and the joke was actually on us.

  If you kill your daediem—your mirror—you kill yourself. The deaths just aren’t literal, but still as real as gazing into the next plane. We’re alive and well, strong and cocksure, but we’ve killed who we are, the altruistic part of ourselves that stops building and lets go.

  “Nero, you stupid bastard,” I said to the room. “Seems we both were duped.”

  I closed my eyes and transported myself back into the apartment and envisioned Nero’s face, every little inch of it that had any difference from mine. I needed to differentiate the two of us. We were not the same. I was not the same as Nicholae and Kafka.

  We are not the same.

  “I release you,” I said.

  We are not the same.

  “I release you, Nero. You are free. We are not the same.”

  I did not hate him. He was who he was and that was it. Nothing to waste energy on.

  I could hear his voice in my memory. I hated him then. I didn’t understand what I knew now, and that was hate-bred obsession. A building obsession. I needed to sever the line.

  We are not the same.

  I pictured myself sitting on the stairs with a chain around my neck. That’s who I was now—who the Lornes were—we just couldn’t see the chains. Maybe if I focused hard enough, then I could. I couldn’t remain on the stairs.

  I remembered finding Desiree with Reid, the chain around the neck of the girl I loved. I almost didn’t free her.

  “Nero, I know you can hear me. Say something.” I sat up on the bed and planted my feet firmly on the floor.

  A dim shadow extended from my feet like the shadow cast from the faintest of clock hands. I focused on it, the kind of focus that brought me back to my room while I reached for my first glimpses of Provex City.

  “I release you, Nero. You are free. We are not the same.” I said it with as much conviction as when I’d killed him.

  Who? A wolf among sheep? Maybe I am.

  I could be. But I didn’t have to be. And I didn’t want to be one any longer.

  “Nero, I release—”

  The faint shadow at my feet jerked and vanished into the floor like a fleeing ghost.

  “Hello, Oliver,” the familiar voice said.

  I smiled a Jeremy-sized smile. “I never thought it would sound so good to hear your voice again.”

  

  I didn’t tell anyone what I’d accomplished the night before. I didn’t mention to Nicholae that Desiree was gone, even though I knew he wouldn’t have cared either way.

  The day seemed to pass like any other, but Nicholae was planning to attack tonight. Erik confirmed Kafka’s location and he seemed to be preoccupied with his own projects. The other Lornes seemed to be on standby. They were waiting for something and we didn’t know what. Nicholae figured this would be the best time to strike.

  “I’m coming tonight,” I told Nicholae when I found him held up in one of the training rooms.

  “Then we should get in another practice session before then.” He was sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, staring out into space. “Go find Daniel and insist on one more session.”

  “You don’t look overly busy,” I said.

  “Most battles are won before they’re fought. I have to go in there with a clear head. Most of our fights are internal. Focus and mental endurance.”

  I sat down next to him. “Whose belief is stronger,” I said. “Seeing the result within before it manifests.”

  “That’s right.”

  I removed my handgun from the shoulder holster and pointed it at the far wall, my elbows on my upturned knees. With a loud crack, the bullet screamed from the chamber, but I stopped it before it hit the wall. The projectile hovered for a moment and then slowly floated in reverse as I pulled it back to the gun. When it drew close enough, I plucked it out of the air and held it between two fingers. I let the bullet go and it shot back toward the wall like it had been fired again. It dented the metal wall, but didn’t puncture it.

  “Nice control,” Nicholae said. “You’ve come a long way.”

  “I feel like I have, too,” I said, but my meaning was different from his. I released my grip and the gun somersaulted with my finger through the trigger guard. “I’m ready.”

  “I know, Oliver. I won’t hold you back.”

  I followed Nicholae’s direction and went in search for Mr. Gordon. When I found him, we agreed to meet at the small building that had held Desiree. It seemed appropriate.

  I sat on the bed and he pulled up a wooden chair. The door was there when we entered, but he sent it away again. A small assurance of our privacy.

  “Full manifestation isn’t much harder than moving objects with your mind,” Mr. Gordon said. “The key is clearly envisioning the object you wish to move or manifest. To move it, you must first move it in your mind, from one point to another. To manifest it, you move the object past the barrier of your imagination and drag it into the real world.

  “I once told you that when you truly believe anything’s possible, you will be able to open doors where there were only walls. This started out with harnessing your focus and the power of your knowings to pass through walls and planes alike. The walls were no longer barriers, which created their own kind of doors. Now I want you to take that knowing to the next level. You’ve seen me do it, and now it’s your turn. Open a door in that wall.” Mr. Gordon pointed straight ahead, at the empty canvas of a wall. “There was a door there. You saw it. You can picture it. I didn’t push it back. It’s no longer there. It’s time for you to create your own door.”

  “I’ve missed this,” I said.

  “So have I.” He smiled and pointed back to the wall. “We’re not leaving through the wall.”

  I cleared my head and harnessed my focus. The fifth way to get something—manifest it. Mr. Gordon didn’t interject; he simply offered silent support, which was all I needed. We were there for the better part of the afternoon, but in the end, we did leave through a door.

  The rest of the day was a seemingly endless tor
ment of waiting. I ate. Listened to music, mostly Elliott Smith to remind myself of Desiree. Made small talk with what friends I had left. Walked aimlessly around the compound. Visited the dead—and to my surprise, found a fifth white marker in the grass behind the building, and even more of a surprise when I read the name on the marker.

  “Jeremy,” I said and sank cross-legged to the grass. Someone brought him back—brought him home. Just seeing his name scrolled across the rectangular white board before me brought tears to my eyes.

  The sun was setting, just like the last time I sat here with Isolde. A breeze combed through the grass. Dark clouds were coming, forcing twilight to bed earlier than usual. There was static electricity in the air and the hair on my arms stood at attention in anticipation of the coming storm.

  “Hope you don’t mind getting wet,” Nero said just beyond my ears.

  “There are worse things,” I said.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Whatever I can to end this,” I said, as much to Jeremy as to Nero. “It’s time to end this.” My father’s words felt oddly natural on my lips. And for a moment, my tears dried up and I felt calm, peaceful, clear.

  I focused on the Archanum dagger my father had given me—and it appeared in my hand. I didn’t feel surprised as I would have thought, but expectant.

  I am ready.

  Kafka (10)

  Eli was summoned to the observation deck of Lorne Tower just before midnight. The wind and rain were howling by that time. He’d had almost a whole day to recover from the previous night’s hedonistic festivities that led him across LA and Hollywood. He was still hung over when Tomarah retrieved him from his suite. With one touch, she took all of the remaining discomfort away, which caused him to wonder why he hadn’t asked for help earlier in the day.

  Kafka and the rest of the family were already there: Lazarus, Malakye, Tomarah, and Icarus. The only member without an accompanying wolf was Kafka. The Lornes stood in a semicircle, dressed in their traditional black garb, and their wolves sat stoically at their sides. Kafka had a small black scarf, what looked like a priest’s stole, looped around his neck.