“Do not be alarmed, son of Lucius, when part of what you eat and drink does not sit well with your constitution. Things in the overworld are not quite as pleasant as the underworld. It is called digestive function and you would do well to read about it in the library of my father at once so that you will be prepared.” Those were the only words of advice Il Dolce Mio had given him.
Only the old one had shown any sympathy for him. The old one now reclined in one of the chairs, snoring softly. He could have run off and been long gone before any of them knew what was happening, but they had promised that his father would be coming soon. He would have to wait and see his father. He had promised to try to meet what they deemed good behavior until his father arrived and then his father would know what to do. His father would know that he did not belong here. His father would take him back to the underworld. He was sure of it. If only Paddy were here…
He plucked at the stiff material of the jeans he wore and shook his head. His long curls had been severely mistreated earlier when the one called Luke Andrew had given him a bath. It was a wonder he had any curls left at all. The elves liked his curls. None of them had curls. But his ears had changed along with everything else and they were now round on top like these creatures that lived in this strange land. These things made him very sad and he did not understand why he had been forced to come here. His drumming was forlorn as he sat watching Planxty Grine sleeping in one of the long, feets-up chairs.
He slid from the table and walked dejectedly back to the big house. It was nothing like the grand castle in the forest: the King’s castle where he had lived all his life. There were no interesting creatures here. Just grumpy men and old men and busy men and… he stopped as the back door opened and a creature very similar in appearance to one of the water nymphs came down the steps. But this creature was much larger!
He waited, motionless as this strange one walked toward him.
“Hello!” the creature’s voice was melodious like the tinkling of bells.
“Hello,” he answered, unsure if he should speak with it.
“You must be Giovanni.” The young blonde girl smiled at him and held out one hand.
Vanni looked at her hand in alarm and took a step backwards, wondering if she wanted his drum.
“No Joe, just Vanni,” he told her. “Or Vannistephetti!”
“I’m Greta d’Ornan, Simeon’s daughter!” she told him. “I’ll call you Vanni. That other one is too hard.”
“Ahh. A daughter. I have heard of this.” He nodded. “What manner of creature are you? Surely you are not a man!”
Greta’s eyes widened in amusement. “No. I’m not a man. I’m a girl.”
“A girl. Girl is the same as daughter?” he asked and she lowered her hand.
“I suppose you could say that. Yes. What are you doing?”
“Nothing. I’m stopped right here,” he said and glanced back at the sleeping man still on the patio. “Why are you here? Did you come for my drum?”
“No, of course not!” She laughed and he smiled. “I came with my poppi. My grandfather, Simon, the Healer, is supposed to be here soon. And my Uncle Levi is coming. He’s a priest, you know. We came to visit.”
“Visit? Then you will not be staying here?”
“No. Just visiting.” She twisted one of her blonde braids around her finger. “You will be living here?”
“I live wherever I go.” He frowned. “It has always been so with me. Wherever I go, I am always alive.”
“I see.” She nodded. “My father told me that you would be a bit hard to understand.”
Vanni placed one hand over his mouth and felt of his face. He stretched his mouth wide and stuck out his tongue while working his jaw back and forth.
“What are you doing?” She frowned at him quizzically.
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I didn’t know that I was hard to understand. Can you understand me now? I am told that I must speak this language.”
“You’re silly!” She walked past him and looked up at the moon. “I like this place. It has more space than the island.”
Vanni turned about, looking up at the stars and the moon.
“There is no more space here than anywhere else!” he told her, finding her ridiculous statements quite aggravating.
“You’re really silly!” She giggled. “Can you play that thing?”
“Of course.” He nodded indignantly. “I would not carry it about if I could not play it. It is quite heavy, you see.”
“Oh, of course.” She giggled again. “Come back out here and play for me. I play the violin.”
“Violin?” He followed her as she started back towards the patio. “Is that like a flower? They tell me that these flowers are called violets.”
“You really don’t know much, do you?” she asked over her shoulder and tossed her braids back.
“I know a great deal,” he told her. “I just do not know why I’m here. It must be because I am an anomaly. The King said that I am an anomaly and he said that I am capricious. Is that bad? Does it mean that I will be sent into exile here? Do you know any other anomalies or caprices? Where is this island you speak of? Are there many more like you? Many daughters and girls? Does the Healer have many Simeons? Do you know what Anus are? Have you ever seen one? Do you have toilets on your island? Does everyone in this place use toilets? Have you ever heard of the Virgin? And what is this toilet paper made of and where does it grow? What did you mean when you said my name was ‘hard’? The King said it was very nice.” He plied her with one question after another as she took a seat at the table.
She simply looked at him in wonder as he climbed onto the table and began to play his drum. He was very good and soon he had forgotten all of his strange questions as he became preoccupied with his drumming. Her company had somehow lifted his spirits and the rhythm was no longer forlorn, but quite lively. Greta sat smiling and tapping her fingers on the glass table. Vanni frowned and stopped playing, laying both hands on the tight skin of the drum to stop the vibrations.
Greta looked about in search of what had caused him to stop.
Another, larger boy was walking across the grass toward the patio from the direction of the woods beyond. He had dark hair and dark eyes and was dressed in a blue Tartan kilt.
“Who is that?” Greta asked the drummer in a low voice.
“That is the one that they call Joel Isaac Grenoble,” Vanni told her with vehemence. “I do not like him. He is evil.”
“How do you know?” Greta stood up as the tall boy drew closer. He looked to be about fifteen or sixteen.
“I know these things! I told you that I know a great deal.” Vanni climbed down from the table.
“Hello.” Joel stopped in front of them and smiled down at her. “You must be… Greta? Greta d’Ornan, the Healer’s granddaughter.”
“How did you know?” she asked him and felt a shiver course up her spine.
“I know a great deal,” he echoed Vanni’s words and then turned his smile on Vanni. The son of the Golden Eagle frowned up at him. “You are a Merovingian,” he addressed Simeon's daughter again.
“I am not!” Her eyes widened. She had no idea what he was talking about, but it did not sound healthy to her. She turned quickly to take Vanni’s hand, startling him immensely. He did not like being touched by these creatures, but her hand was very soft and warm.
Joel began to laugh nervously as Greta dragged Vanni up the sidewalk toward the house.
“Come on, Vanni! You have to meet my father. He’s a great falconer! Do you know what a falcon is?” she asked her new found friend.
Vanni tripped along after her, glancing back at Joel over his shoulder to gauge Joel’s reaction.
(((((((((((((
“It would be nice, but I doubt it.” Mark Andrew leaned back in the seat of the plane and pressed the controls on the arm-pad. The small screen on the back of the seat in front of him sprang to life. He scanned the channels and stopp
ed on a news program. “I would probably have to call him. I haven’t seen him since Arabia.”
“He might have some insight as to what we should do about Giovanni. He might know where his mother is,” Lucio said as he looked out the window at the silver tops of the clouds below them.
It had taken all of their combined powers of persuasion, to convince the Grand Master to allow them both to come to Scotland. Barry had finally intervened on their behalf, pointing out that, in light of the identity of Giovanni’s parents, it might be best if they took care of the situation with some measure of expediency. It would never do to allow him to get away or to be taken by someone, especially anyone who might be interested in him… or the Order. The Grand Master had relented, but had strictly forbade the Golden Eagle from bringing his son back to Naples. He was of the opinion that Giovanni should be sent to St. Patrick’s Island and placed in the care of one of the Templar families there. Perhaps Simeon and Constance could take him or arrange for one of the other families with children to foster his care for a while where he would be less likely to attract attention.
D’Brouchart had put in a call to his grandson, Simeon, to meet Mark and Lucio in Scotland. He had also agreed to send Simon along shortly to help them decide what was to be done with the boy. Dambretti had been dead set against sending Giovanni to a foster home and had vocalized his objections loudly enough to receive a tongue-lashing and a few threats from the Grand Master. He wanted his son with him. He had missed out on raising Lucia and Marco Niccolo. Now he was missing this son as well. He had spent more time with Galen Zachary than any of them, but he knew what it was to share his son with another ‘father’. Galen thought of Luke Matthew as his father as much as, if not more than him. It was very frustrating.
“Simon is supposed to be on his way and Simeon and Levi as well. They might have some ideas. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for…” Mark Andrew sat up as his mind focused on the news report. He held up one hand in front of Lucio’s face and pointed one finger at the screen.
“… hundreds of millions of dollars. Representatives from seventeen countries worldwide will be meeting in Paris to discuss these bizarre occurrences. Although it is impossible to say that they are related other than that they are identical in nature, it is also inconceivable to imagine that it was something perpetrated by a single person… speculation at this point seems to indicate a global conspiracy. Perhaps by some fanatical organization whose motives are as yet undisclosed. The complexity of the crime is mind-boggling.” The man stood in front of a glass pyramid. The wind was blowing his hair about and a myriad of flowering shrubs swayed in the breeze behind him. “I’m Jerry Saenger, live on the scene at the Moody Garden Complex in Galveston, Texas.” The picture changed to a newsroom and a blonde woman in a red and white suit.
“This will most likely go down as one of the most bizarre crimes in history. Whoever is behind the plot will certainly have a lot of explaining to do. The authorities in Galveston and San Antonio, Texas; New Orleans, Louisiana; Paris; Rome; London; New York; San Francisco; even research aquariums in Tokyo; Sydney and Athens were all baffled by the disappearance of millions of tons of live sea creatures from some of the largest public aquariums in the world overnight. The administrators of the seventeen facilities have all reported the same thing. When the parks closed for the night, the fish and other aquatic displays were intact. Over the past twenty-four hours, as the various parks began to open, the discoveries were shocking as more and more facilities began to report the same story to authorities. The tanks were simply devoid of life. Preliminary investigations have indicated that the facilities mentioned previously had recorded absolutely nothing other than normal operations on their security videos. No trucks or unusual activities were recorded or reported outside the facilities during the theft. At those facilities employing overnight security and other maintenance staff reported that all was well during their rounds. A spokesman for Moody Gardens in the United States said that even the sea fans and anemones were removed from the tanks and it appears that the theft took less than a few moments.”
“It will take millions of dollars and millions of manhours to begin to replace the exotic creatures. So far, no one has come forward to take responsibility for the acts and we have not heard from New Babylon. There is some concern that this may have been simply an attention-getting phase for an even more heinous plot yet to unfold. Meanwhile, we are still trying to determine just how the creatures were transported from the aquariums and where they might have been taken. We’ll go now, live to Sydney and our reporter on the ground there.”
Mark Andrew shook his head sadly and turned off the device. He looked at Lucio who sat frowning, next to him.
“Lemarik,” they said the name in unison.
“Well, at least we know he is still around.” Lucio shrugged. The Djinni had complained more than once about the sea creatures imprisoned in parks and wildlife conservatories. He had often said that he planned to liberate them at first opportunity. “What should we do about this?”
“Nothing.” Mark Andrew raised one eyebrow. “What can we do?”
Lucio nodded his head thoughtfully.
“I suppose it is God’s will,” he said after a moment.
“I wonder what New Babylon will have to say about it.” Mark Andrew almost laughed. Surely Omar would have to come up with something to cover his father’s little indiscretion. His thoughts were interrupted as the small television screen lit up again of its own accord. The face of the mighty Djinni frowned at them from the screen.
“Santa Maria!” Lucio’s eyes widened.
“Lemarik?” Mark Andrew leaned toward the screen.
“Ho, Adar! Lucius of Venetia! Did you miss me?”
Mark instinctively looked at the controls on his arm-pad.
“That’s not a vidiphone, Brother,” Lucio whispered to him.
“Whattar ye doin’?!” Mark Andrew glanced about nervously.
“I must speak with you, my father.” Lemarik turned his head slightly, looking directly at Lucio. “Lucius may listen as well.”
“How nice,” Lucio muttered.
“Where are you?” Mark asked as he leaned back a bit and tried to assume an air of calm.
“I’m right here!” Lemarik shook his head, frowning. “My beautiful son, Omar, is in Haiti. He is planning to confront the creature from beyond. He and my granddaughter, Anna, have a terrible plan. Awful! It will not work! I have tried to dissuade him, but he will not listen to me. Ahhh. But it is always so. The young never listen to the old until they are old themselves. I have convinced him to wait until I could consult with you.”
“This is not a good place for consultation, my friend,” Lucio told him.
“Time is very short,” Lemarik continued. “This creature has taken up residence in the Citadelle Laferriere. My son will be destroyed.”
“Tell him to come to Scotland.” Mark Andrew’s feigned calm evaporated. “There is grave business to discuss with him concerning his son, Bari. I have been meaning to call him. That will make him come. Don’t let them do anything foolish!”
“You have news of Bari Caleb?” Lemarik’s frown increased.
“I have better than news. I know where he is.” Mark Andrew looked around again. No one was paying any attention to him.
“Aahhhh. This is wonderful. I will go at once. Fly friendly!” Lemarik waved one hand to them. The screen turned purple and then gray.
“So you know where Bari is? How long have you known?” Lucio turned a puzzled frown on the Knight of Death.
“I’ve known for quite some time,” Mark Andrew told him. “I have been debating what to do about it. Things are not always what they seem.”
“Santa Maria!” Lucio leaned his head back in the seat. “Would you mind very much telling me where he is? You know that Ruth has been beside herself all this time, searching for him. How could you keep it from her?”
“He is in Scotland. He is staying with Luke Matthew
and Merry.”
“Holy Mother of God!” Lucio sat up again. “How long? Where did they find him?”
“He was in America. Texas, to be precise.” Mark sighed. “They found him when Simon took them to visit Reuben.”
“He was with Reuben?!” Lucio almost shouted and then lowered his voice. “How in the name of God did that happen?”
“I’m not quite sure how it happened, but I know that God had nothing to do with it.” Mark Andrew looked at him darkly. “And he is not a baby anymore, Lucio. He is probably fifteen to seventeen in physical age. Mentally, he is incalculable. I don’t know how much he has been affected by… his former keeper. I am not sure it would be good to hand him over to Omar.”
“You can’t keep his son from him!” Lucio was astounded. “You…you cannot…”
“I can do many things, Brother.” Mark Andrew’s face darkened. “My allegiance to this Order only goes so far. If I deem it necessary to do… certain things, then rest assured I will do them.”
“Certain things?” Lucio’s voice grew small. “Do you plan to allow me to take charge of my son? You just said we have to start acting like an Order? You are exempt?”
“Not exempt. No! I simply have the override control in here.” Mark tapped the side of his head. “I have not yet decided. We will see what we will see.”
“What about the Grand Master’s plan? Do you support the idea of sending Giovanni to the Islands?” Lucio was clearly working himself into an angry outburst.
“I am undecided.” Mark glanced around again. “Look, Brother! Things are not well with us. We are not speaking of normal children here… these are simply two more of your freaks as you call them. Very, very dangerous freaks. Just as my own son and daughter were dangerous. For God’s sake! We don’t even know where Nicole is. And you are still married to her or did you forget? She could be anywhere. She could still do a great deal of damage to us in the wrong hands at the wrong time. Think of it!”
Thoth, the Atlantean Page 5