Even the great Homer relied on Calliope for help. That always made Oliver uncomfortable. To him, it felt like a burden. But Nora saw it as her duty to protect all the others, even if it meant putting herself in the line of fire.
The sound of Samuel saying Oliver’s name jolted him back into reality. “Oliver, Irene told me she’s going to visit Emerson.”
“When?” asked Oliver.
“Tonight. To make arrangements for the move.”
“She can’t be moved now,” said Oliver. “She’s still in the ICU.”
“Irene mentioned that there is a way to speed up—” Oliver held up his hand to stop Samuel.
“No,” he said. “She’s not ready. She’s too young. You do that, and you might as well kill her now.”
Samuel’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, Oliver, I didn’t mean to—”
“That’s the problem,” said Oliver. “No one means to do anything. No one understands.”
“I do. I understand.” Samuel’s face tightened, and he returned to his seat.
Oliver closed his eyes. How could he have told Samuel that no one understood? Of course Samuel understood what it meant to have his child’s life teeter on the edge. He understood better than anyone.
“Ready?” Jasper asked as he came to stand in front of Oliver.
“No,” said Oliver, but Jasper nodded, turned to the group, and stepped into the center of what became the stage.
“Friends, thank you for traveling to be with us today on such short notice. I do wish we were coming together in celebration. The situation we now face is the worst scenario we could have imagined five years ago, maybe the worst ever imagined in our long and winding history. It’s made worse by grave injuries to members of our family. They were attacked inside Oliver’s home several days ago, and that attack caused us to delay this meeting. Though we have no conclusive proof, we believe Oliver’s home was specifically targeted.”
“Surely you didn’t bring us here to tell us information we already know,” said Rona Goodfellow from the house of Euterpe.
“Is there something else?” asked Lourence Pilar, the head of Terpsichore. “Something you’re not telling us?”
Jasper clenched his jaw. “We have confirmed that Cassandra has started to rebuild what was left of the In-Between, with even loftier visions than she had before,” he said. “More dangerous weapons. More lethal powers.”
The room collectively held its breath. Aamori Elham from the house of Erato broke the silence with one word.
“Loftier?”
Like a dam containing raging waters, that one word sent a panic through the room as the Council members voiced their worst fears. The jeers from the crowd grew deafening and melded together in Oliver’s ears, but even their cacophony couldn’t drown out his thoughts.
Jasper tried to regain some sense of order. “Friends, I know there are a lot of questions,” he said.
“We’ve got to know what we’re dealing with if we’re to make any decisions about what to do with Emerson,” said Aamori. “It’s our sworn duty to protect our legacy.”
A poisonous feeling rose into Oliver’s throat and forced him to his feet with his hands in his hair.
“Isn’t the decision mine?” he yelled. “How can we talk about legacy now? My daughter is not a chip to be bargained with!”
The Council members sat stunned in silence as Oliver collapsed into his seat.
Irene stood and walked over to Oliver. She sat beside him, but her eyes remained on the group.
“Oliver’s right,” she said. “And wrong. The decision is not ours.”
“Thank you,” said Oliver.
“It’s also not his,” she continued. “The choice is Emerson’s, as it was Nora’s.”
Oliver looked at her in shock.
“Emerson’s a child,” said Raymond.
“She is,” said Irene. “But she is on the cusp of great change. Internal and external.” She gestured with her hand at Jasper.
“You all know there was an attack outside the Crooked Willow a few days ago,” said Jasper without looking at Oliver. “What you don’t know, what Oliver doesn’t even know, is that Emerson showed us then that she is ready for the destiny that awaits her.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Oliver.
“Skylar and Truman witnessed her first display of photokinesis. In the darkness of that attack, Emerson glowed. Her whole being was shrouded in light. Like Nora, the only other person we’ve known to ever have this gift, the light surrounding her, emanating directly from her, was pure white, a combination of all colors.”
Oliver’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. He felt a mixture of confusion and fear.
“She is touched with the gift,” said Jasper. “Now it’s up to us to see that she learns how to use it properly, without it consuming her the way it consumed Nora.”
Oliver’s shoulders slumped forward in defeat, and he felt his heart ache. He’d lost before he’d even tried to win. He knew now that Emerson’s training was the only option. She couldn’t learn to control her gift on her own, and without being able to control it, she would be lost to it.
“Jasper, what does Cassandra want?” asked Lourence.
“She believes we know where to find Calliope’s book, the world’s very first and therefore oldest book,” said Jasper. “The book Calliope wrote herself to record the secrets to everlasting and unlimited creativity. That book can only be deciphered by a direct heir of Calliope, and there remain only two now: Cassandra and Emerson. One who will use it to destroy human imagination, and one who we hope will use it to ignite and bolster human imagination in unprecedented ways.”
“But we don’t know where the book is,” said Rona.
“No,” said Jasper. “But Cassandra doesn’t know that. When she came to Stargrass the other day, it was clear that she still believed I knew where it was.”
“But how long can that charade go on?” asked Oliver. “She’ll increase the attacks until you hand it over. We don’t have much time, and we’re out of leads. Lachlan is gone. Cassandra got to him before we did, so we never found out what he knew.”
“Did Cassandra?” asked Rona.
“We don’t think so,” said Jasper. “When we found Lachlan, I pulled his final thought. It was the same threat she leveled at me at Stargrass: Give her what she wants or she’ll take everything else. As long as she thinks we know something, she won’t look anywhere else for the book. That buys us some time.”
“But she’s waging a war against us,” said Aamori. “Oliver’s right. She won’t be patient. She’s proven that.”
“She will,” said Jasper, “if we can distract her.”
“With what?” asked Oliver.
Jasper slowly inhaled before answering. “Not what, but who,” he said.
The color drained from Oliver’s face.
“Are you suggesting we make Emerson a distraction for her?” asked Raymond.
“I’m suggesting that—”
“My daughter is not bait for a madwoman!” yelled Oliver. “You can’t expect Emerson to fight off Cassandra. She’s no match for her.”
Irene looked Oliver in the eye.
“She is the only match for her,” said Irene. “She’s the only family Cassandra has left.”
“She is not her family,” said Oliver. “I’m her family.”
“If Cassandra thinks there is any chance at bringing Emerson to her side of this battle, that will be more important to her than anything, even the book and the power it will bring,” said Irene. “Somewhere in her lies a heart, twisted though it may be. And we must use that to our advantage. It’s our last best hope. War is ugly, but war is far better than what awaits us if we do nothing.”
“I know my daughter,” said Oliver. “She wears her heart on her sleeve. She’d never betr
ay Jasper, and she’d never be able to convince someone that she would.”
“This is exactly what I’ve been saying,” said Raymond. “She is too young for a challenge of this magnitude.”
With a heavy sigh, he sat back in his chair and folded his hands on top of his belly like a poker player who had just pushed all his chips to the center of the table and now waited for the cards to be dealt.
“And where will Emerson go in the meantime, to heal and make herself ready for the battle ahead?” asked Aamori. “Her injuries are extensive. And she needs training. Extensive training. She doesn’t even know she has these gifts, much less the knowledge to control them. We don’t even know if she will completely heal, and we don’t know how long it will take.”
Jasper cleared his throat. “There’s only one place where she’ll be safe while we formulate a plan,” he said. “One place where she can fully grasp the choice before her, and the consequences.”
“And who will guide her through?” asked Oliver. “Who will help her understand all that lives there, inside those walls and books?”
“I will,” said Samuel as he rose from his seat.
One by one, the members of the Council stood to show their support. Oliver squinted at them. The show of solidarity and love for Emerson was overwhelming and undeniable.
“And what if she fails?” he asked. “What if she wants to help but can’t?”
“If she makes the choice to do this, we will stand with her,” said Jasper. “Shoulder to shoulder, until it’s done.”
Oliver thought of Nora, of what her last moments must have been like and the sacrifice she had made when she chose the right but lonely road.
“I need your word,” said Oliver. “I need you all to give your word that Emerson will not be allowed to go it alone the way Nora did.”
They all raised their staffs high into the air. A colored light from each one illuminated a sliver of the glass dome above until finally the only sliver that remained dark was Calliope’s. Oliver raised Nora’s staff, and from it a light illuminated the entire sphere overhead, raining droplets of white light as bright as the sun onto the whole Council, all of their colors united.
Jasper raised his voice strong and clear. “And so it begins.”
CHAPTER 22
RISE AND SHINE
As soon as Oliver, Jasper, and Irene left Pomander Walk together, they got a call from Truman telling them that Cassandra had come to see Emerson at the hospital. Oliver took off without a word to Jasper or Irene. Now he raced up the front steps of the hospital two at a time. He blew past the reception desk and through the double doors of the ICU.
“Where did she go?” Oliver screamed as he grabbed Truman by the collar of his leather jacket.
“I—” Truman stammered.
Oliver pushed him aside and ripped open the hospital room door. Then he draped himself over Emerson as she continued her deep sleep, his heartbeat blaring in his ears. Jasper and Irene entered the room with much less force. Irene stood next to Oliver and put her hand gently on his back.
“May I?” she asked.
He looked up, nodded, and stepped back slightly.
Irene examined Emerson’s palms, closely inspecting and tracing each line with her forefinger. She gently moved the girl’s chin down to examine her tongue. With one hand on the top of Emerson’s head, she moved her other palm in the air above her down the centerline of her body to the area between Emerson’s eyebrows, the notch at the base of the throat, the center of the chest, between the ribs, and finally the navel.
With a grave expression on her face, Irene placed the fingers of both hands on Emerson’s cheekbones and then moved them to the sides of Emerson’s head. After a deep breath, she gently lifted the girl’s eyelids as if trying to peer deep into her sleepy eyes, right into her soul. The red light on the side of Irene’s glasses pulsed rapidly as it had when Emerson first met her in Stargrass. Irene released Emerson’s eyelids, grabbed her bag, and rifled through it. All manner of sounds emanated from the bag—the beat of a drum, the clang of metal, and the waves of the ocean.
“What’s in there?” Oliver asked.
“Everything we need,” said Irene.
She pulled vials from the bag and positioned them one by one in a row on the bedside table. They looked like soldiers, armed and ready for battle. Then she placed a silver chalice and two of the tiniest teacups imaginable next to the vials. Irene poured a few drops from each vial into the chalice and swirled it rapidly.
“May I have a bit of that water you have, Jasper?”
“Oh, I’d almost forgotten!” he said.
Jasper removed a small purple bottle, encrusted with jewels, from his pocket and handed it to Irene. She removed the cap and tapped a few drops of silver water into the chalice. A sizzling sound emanated from it.
“What is that?” asked Oliver.
“A weapon of mass protection,” replied Irene with a smile.
She took the green willow spring that Samuel had given her, crumbled it, and dropped the bits into the chalice. A tiny plume of blue smoke floated into the air.
“Perfect,” she said.
She poured the potion evenly into the two teacups. She turned to Skylar, gently opened the girl’s mouth, and slowly poured in the concoction. Skylar took it easily. She did the same with Emerson. Emerson twitched and coughed violently as her eyes popped open.
“Bleck,” she said. “My mouth tastes like grass and seawater.”
“Exactly the reaction I always hope for,” said Irene.
Oliver put his hand on Emerson’s forehead and smiled.
“Hi, Dad,” said Emerson.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Emerson’s tired gaze moved from person to person in the room and finally fell on Skylar. A smile grew wide across Emerson’s face as Skylar opened her eyes.
CHAPTER 23
WHEN A HOUSE IS NOT A HOME
When Samuel left Pomander Walk, he made his way back down 96th Street toward the Crooked Willow Café. Though the others had said they didn’t feel safe on the streets now, Samuel never felt unsafe. Maybe it was the fact that he took up most of the sidewalk with his enormous size or that he had trained in sumo wrestling as a boy before his family moved from Japan to Hawaii. He looked intimidating, but Samuel only used his size to protect those not blessed with his girth.
He rounded the corner onto Columbus Avenue and stopped short when he saw a young boy outside the Crooked Willow. The boy’s forehead and one hand rested on the window. He was too young to be out on the street by himself at this late hour. Once he took a few more quick strides forward, Samuel realized the boy was Max.
“Hello,” Samuel said.
Max quickly backed away from the window and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
“Sorry, Mr. Samuel.”
“No sorry needed, Max. You’re always welcome here. You know that. Want to come inside and sit for a while?”
Max half-smiled and nodded. Samuel opened the door, and Max headed for a seat in the front corner. One of the baristas was restocking shelves and resetting the equipment while a couple from the neighborhood sat on the far side of the café. Piano music played softly from the speakers overhead.
Max lived a few blocks away in a set of buildings known collectively in the neighborhood as “The Last Stop.” Samuel poured a glass of chocolate milk and filled a plate with a sandwich and oatmeal cookies.
“Tough night?” he asked as he put the glass and plate in front of Max and sat down across from him. Max nodded and gobbled down the sandwich and cookies.
“I used to have those, too, when I was your age,” said Samuel.
“You did?”
“Yeah. I had a stepfather who wasn’t all that nice to me. And I spent a lot of time wandering around outside, trying to figure how to get away from him.”
; “I do that, too.”
“It won’t always be like this, Max.”
“I hope not.”
“How old are you?” asked Samuel.
“Ten. Not old enough to be worth anything to anyone. That’s what my mom’s boyfriend says.”
“Well, how about we find a way to make you an intern here.”
Max’s face lit up. “You mean like a job?” he asked.
“Kind of like a job. You can’t legally work for money at ten years old, but we can find a way to make sure you get fed, have a place to go, and get things you need.”
Max scooted his feet farther under his chair. His shoes were worn so thin in spots that his bare feet showed.
“You stay here as long as you want,” Samuel said. “I’ve got some work to do in the office. There’s more food behind the counter if you’re hungry. Take whatever you need.”
“Thanks, Mr. Samuel.”
“You’re welcome, Max. Can you be here tomorrow after school?”
“Sure. The bells rings at 2:30 so I can be here by 2:45.”
“It’s a deal,” said Samuel as he shook Max’s hand and turned toward the hallway to his office.
“Samuel? Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, Max.”
“When Emerson protected me from that group of kids, something weird happened,” he said. “She started glowing. Is she okay?”
“She’s going to be fine,” said Samuel. “Have you ever heard of Martin Luther King?”
“He helped people who look like me,” said Max.
“He once said something about light that’s always stuck with me,” said Samuel. “He said, ‘Darkness doesn’t drive out darkness. Only light can do that.’ In moments when we’re really backed into a corner and surrounded by darkness, that’s when the brightest light finds us and protects us.”
Emerson Page and Where the Light Enters Page 8