Second Chronicles of Illumination

by C. A. Pack

  Johanna replaced the illustration among the papers and slipped them inside the cover.

  Jackson grimaced. “That’s kind of sketchy, don’t you think?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He faded away before you closed the book.”

  “Hmmm. Does he seem familiar to you?”

  “Nope. Never met the guy.”

  “There’s something about him.”

  “Perhaps you met him hiking through the Middle Ages without me.”

  “Funny.”

  “Where could you have possibly met him?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I guess everyone reminds us a little of someone else.”

  “Couldn’t have said it better, myself.”

  ★

  “We can’t delay contacting the overseers anymore.” It was evening, and Johanna had just lost a not-so-rousing game of Monopoly to Jackson.

  He snuggled up to her, but she pushed him away. “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want to be in a compromising position when Pru Tellerence decides to return.”

  “You see, that’s where your logic is faulty.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You want to contact the overseers because you’re afraid she’s not coming back. But you don’t want to do anything fun because you’re afraid she’ll walk in on us. If you really want her to return, you would compromise yourself—just so she can suddenly appear and catch you. I think it’s the only way to get her back.”

  “I think you’re the one with faulty logic.”

  “We’ve been together for nearly a year, but we’re like a couple of twelve-year-olds. Don’t you think it’s time to take this relationship to the next level?”

  “This is the worst possible time to do that. You’ll be going away to college soon and—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you talking about? I’m not leaving for college.”

  “You’re graduating from high school this year. Of course you’re going to college.”

  “I can get all the education I need right here.”

  “You’re smart Jackson. You qualify for scholarships. You’ve got a great public service record. Your mom would be so proud of you. I would be proud of you. And you’d be setting a good example for Chris and Ava.”

  “Do you have a college education?”

  “No. But I’m getting one.”

  “Where?”

  “What does it matter where?”

  “Because we’re both curators and if you go away to college, I’m going to have to be here to hold down the fort.”

  “I’m not going away. I’ve taken a few courses online, and I’ve applied to Cranford University. I can take morning classes and still put in a full day’s work at the library.”

  “Then, I can too.”

  “No, no, no, no, no.”

  “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. You can just forget about me going away to get a degree. If you want me to have a college education to work here, fine. But I’m staying in town, just like you.”

  Johanna changed the subject. “Do you need help carrying the ladder to the cupola?”

  “No. But can I ask you something?”

  “What?”

  “Mal’s in Lumi. Couldn’t you just use his diary to ask him to contact them, rather than making me haul up the ladder and lasso the hook, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera?”

  “She asked me not to tell anyone, and now you want me to bring Mal into it too.”

  “You don’t have to tell him anything other than P.T. is missing and ask if he can contact the overseers for you. That way, you barely tell anyone anything—until they force you to tell them something.”

  “Mal is going to want to know— ”

  ★Know what?

  They both jerked around to face an intruder.

  ★

  “Pru Tellerence, you’re back!”

  ★Are you surprised to see me back so soon?

  “Soon?” Johanna’s eyes were as big as ping-pong balls. “You’ve been gone for a couple of days. We were, uh, discussing whether to contact the overseers because we thought something terrible had happened to you.”

  Pru Tellerence gazed calmly at Johanna.

  ★We discussed the privacy of this matter.

  “Well. It’s not like we did anything yet.”

  The overseer slowly turned her head toward Jackson.

  “He doesn’t know anything,” Johanna said.

  Jackson stepped back. “I know lots of things. Just … not … why you disappeared for so long and made Johanna crazy.”

  ★I am an overseer. I must be free to conduct business as I see fit and cannot worry about your reaction to the amount of time it takes or any secrecy it involves. If you would prefer, I could remove myself to a lodging.

  “That’s not necessary. Now that I understand how you feel, I won’t worry the next time business takes you away. It’s just with Nero 51 running around with a time machine, I feared he might have taken you hostage.”

  ★That is a consideration. Now that I’m back, let us move past this issue.

  “Okay.” Jackson grabbed his jacket. “I guess I’ll be going. See you tomorrow after school.”

  ★

  Pru Tellerence nodded to Johanna. ★Good night.

  Johanna made sure the doors were locked and the lights were out on level five before calling it a night. Something didn’t feel right. The overseer had safely returned, but offered no reason for her delay, nor information about what she found on her trip. Maybe she’s just tired. She turned in for the night, but tossed and turned for hours before falling asleep.

  ★

  The following morning, Johanna woke to the smell of fresh baked pastry. She found Pru Tellerence in the kitchen eating a fragrant piece of bread studded with colorful bits and pieces.

  “What is that?”

  ★It’s a Romantican specialty—brichi—a yeast cake flavored by flowers. As soon as I saw them, I knew we should share this for our morning meal.

  Johanna looked at the bouquet from Jackson. Pru Tellerence had decimated it. She opened her mouth to comment, but something held her back. “Will you be staying long?”

  ★My business here did not provide the answers I hoped for, but I’m sure I will find the child here, somewhere. For now, I must return to my duties on Lumina and seek more information regarding the child’s whereabouts.

  Pru Tellerence handed Johanna a piece of brichi. ★Try it. It’s wonderful.

  ★

  Jackson’s Monday morning gym class did nothing to help him work off steam. Afterwards, he hurled his gym shoes in his locker.

  “You must hate those shoes,” Logan said, punching Jackson in the arm. “Why so glum?”

  Jackson shrugged.

  “It’s Johanna, isn’t it? What’s going on?”

  “I feel like we’re in the sixth grade.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “My relationship with Johanna is no more intense than my relationship with Cassie.”

  Logan stopped walking. “What relationship with Cassie?” His voice had lost its warmth.

  Jackson turned to him. “I see Cassie, I kiss her hello. When I leave, I hug her goodbye. That’s the extent of my relationship with Johanna.”

  “Hold on. Word is you spent the night with Johanna a couple of days ago.”

  “On the couch. Fully clothed.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yep.”

  “What are you gonna do about it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Flowers?”

  “Tried it.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Maybe you need to shake her up a bit.”

  “How?”

  Logan grabbed Jackson’s arm. “C’mon.”

  Jackson shook him off. “We’ve got Sanderson’s class.”

  “Sanderson’s out sick. We’ve got a sub—that little guy with the glasses. He
doesn’t even take attendance.” Logan pulled Jackson out of the building.

  Fifteen minutes later, they stood in front of Inklings tattoo parlor.

  “I don’t know about this.”

  “Chicken?”

  “No.”

  “Then show her you’re a man.” Logan dragged him inside.

  Behind the counter, a guy with tattoos covering every inch of his bulging arm muscles put down his cell phone. “Here for ink?”

  Logan pointed to Jackson. “He is.”

  What kind of tat are you thinking about?”

  “I don’t know. Something small …”

  Logan pointed to a design. “I think you should get this snake crawling up your left cheek and circling your eye.”

  “No.” He looked at the proprietor. “Maybe something on my shoulder.”

  “Where she won’t see it. Dude, you’ve gotta do better than that.” Logan paged through a book of designs.

  The tattoo artist checked out Jackson. “Spider on the side of your neck.”

  Jackson swiped at his neck.

  “The design, dude. I’m suggesting we ink a spider on the side of your neck.”

  Jackson shivered. “No spiders.”

  “This look familiar?” Logan pushed the book in front of Jackson. The page was filled with different varieties of Celtic knots. “Doesn’t your mother have a necklace with one of these on it?

  “I’m not doing this for my mother. Besides, she’ll have a hissy fit when she sees it. And she’s not feeling overly fond of number one son right now.” Jackson pulled the book closer. He tapped one of the illustrations a few times. “This is the one,” he said after a long pause. “I want this on the side of my neck.

  LOI

  CHAPTER 22

  A smattering of troops lined up in the cupola of the Terrorian library. Only a small number of soldiers had signed on for this battle after learning the overseers had incarcerated many of their comrades on Lumina following their last invasion attempt. No one wanted to risk a repeat performance, however, Nero 51 had persuaded a number of his countrymen that the time machine almost assured their victory. They would travel back in time to the day Johanna Charette had first arrived on Lumina, a time when the portals were guaranteed to be opened, but before Johanna Charette had any opportunity to spy on them.

  Nero 51’s plan called for them to start their attack on just one realm—Juvenilia—a world populated by children. He doubted they would give his troops much resistance.

  They would have to be careful. Only three Terrorians could squeeze into the time machine at one time, so Nero 51 instructed the first wave of troopers to wait in the cupola until at least a dozen of their fellow soldiers arrived before fanning out.

  He inspected each team. “Once you have reached the minimum number of soldiers, use the decimator to destroy books. Complete one section before continuing to the next one. When you are engaged by Juveniles, switch your weapons to stun and capture as many of them as possible without leaving the library.”

  One of the troopers raised a tentacle. “What if our soldiers are captured, like during their last attack?”

  Nero 51 sneered. “Whatever went wrong during the last attack can be blamed on the curator Johanna Charette. She alone is responsible for our failure. But now she won’t have a chance to report to the overseers, because we’re going back in time to her first hours on Terroria.

  “We want to set up a power base before striking out against the rest of Juvenilia. It is important we destroy all their literature before doing that, which means disintegrating every book on 1,311 levels. It may take some time, and it’s important to complete that task before the Juveniles get a chance to send out a warning.”

  He raised a tentacle into the air. “T’cra!”

  “T’cra,” the soldiers replied in unison, their tentacles raised.

  Nero 51 puffed out his chest. “Team one, to the time machine,” he bellowed.

  ★

  Johanna mindlessly shelved books returned earlier in the day. She didn’t want to think about Myrddin Sóþspell. She didn’t want to think about Pru Tellerence. She didn’t want to think about Jackson. And yet they all elbowed each other for space inside her psyche, so she chose to think about cotton wool instead. No color, no agenda, no demands.

  A crashing bicycle interrupted her state of oblivion. She turned when Jackson burst through the door. In that instant, the lights flickered and a low rumble shook the building.

  Jackson stopped short. “Earthquake?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What else could it be?”

  “I’m not sure, but every fiber of my being is telling me something fundamentally important has just changed.”

  “Yeah, like what?

  She shook her head. Aside from a gut feeling, she had no explanation why she felt the way she did. Her eyes focused on Jackson’s neck. “What happened to you?”

  His hand flew to the bandage. “Bee sting.”

  “Ouch. I would have thought it too early in the season for bees. I guess I’m wrong.”

  Jackson hesitated. “It could have been a wasp. Maybe even a spider. All I know is it stung like hell and it’s all red and swollen.” At least the end of his statement was true.

  “Sorry.” She heard someone pounding the wall in the vestibule. “Illumination.”

  The wall slid open, revealing a deliveryman. “You ordered groceries?”

  “Yes,” she answered, taking a bag. “I expected you hours ago.”

  “Flat tire.” He held out the other bag to Jackson. “You need to sign for them.”

  “Of course.” Johanna held the bag in one arm while signing with her free hand.

  “Did you feel the earthquake?” Jackson asked the driver.

  “You mean when my tire went flat?”

  “No. Just a moment ago.”

  “Nope.” He tucked the signed receipt under his arm. “Thanks,” he replied as he did a quick about-face and hurried out the door.

  “I’d better bring this upstairs before the milk spoils,” Johanna said, walking toward the stairs.

  “Odd that he didn’t feel anything.” Jackson followed her up to the residence and into the kitchen. His eyes narrowed when he spotted the vase with severed stalks and only a few flowers left. He dumped the bag on the table.

  “What’s wrong with you? There are eggs in there.” She followed his gaze to the vase. “Oh that. I can explain.”

  “Don’t bother.” He turned abruptly and walked out.

  Johanna put the groceries away, then went downstairs to find him. “Jackson,” she called out. He didn’t answer. She searched all the rooms before she finally pulled the back door open. His bike was gone. She closed her eyes for a few moments, exhaling slowly. What is going on with everyone?

  ★

  Jackson lay on a patch of grass and bounced a basketball off the back of his house. His brother Chris came out the door. “You gotta stop doing that. You’re giving me a headache.”

  “Yeah. What do you care?”

  “I care that Mom is going to blame us for all the marks on this side of the house and I’m telling her straight out you’re responsible.”

  “Whatever you want…”

  Chris’s voice went up a notch. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Why do people keep saying that?” Jackson bounced the ball again.

  “It’s Johanna, isn’t it?”

  “I gave her flowers, you know, like that old ad, ‘say it with flowers?’ She destroyed them. I guess that tells me what she thinks of our relationship.”

  “What do you mean, destroyed them?”

  “She cut them up or broke them or something. I was just over there and all that’s left are a bunch of dead stems and a few scattered buds.”

  “Maybe it was an accident.”

  “No. It was very deliberate. She left them on the counter where I would be sure to see them.”

  “Did you ask her why she did it?”

>   “Nope.”

  “Maybe you should give her a chance to explain.”

  “She said that, you know?” He mimicked Johanna in a whining voice. “‘I can explain.’”

  “So what was her explanation?”

  “I didn’t hang around for the answer.”

  “But aren’t you supposed to be working there. Don’t you need to work there to get paid?”

  Jackson glared at his brother.

  “I don’t care what you do, bro’, but Mom needs the money,” Chris continued. “And I’m not making that much at The Burger Pit.”

  Jackson sighed.

  “So why don’t you just go back to work and tell Johanna you left the water running or something.”

  “She thinks little enough of me as it is, and you want me to tell her I’m an imbecile as well.”

  “Yeah.”

  Jackson tossed the basketball against the house. Chris smacked it away on the rebound and watched it skitter out of his brother’s reach. Then he turned and went back inside.

  ★

  Pru Tellerence looked at a long list of child welfare and adoption agencies. There were hundreds—possibly thousands—of them, and out of the entire realm she had only completed her search of agencies in one state of one country.

  The image of the three-year-old child remained fresh in her mind, yet none of the hundreds of young children she’d seen were the child she now sought. No matter. The longevicus blessing meant Pru Tellerence didn’t need as much sleep as normal beings, and if she searched day and night across time zones, her slow spiral around the globe should eventually reunite her with the child in question.

  Finding the youngster, however, proved elusive. The overseer had gained entry to orphanages and foundling homes in various places, but could not find a child with the one distinguishing mark she knew to look for—a tiny star-shaped birthmark behind the little girl’s right ear.

  Her stomach sank when it occurred to her the child could very well be dead. It had been a long time, and youngsters in institutions had less access to healthcare than children with families. The child could have died in an accident or been killed by an act of war. The harder she searched the more disillusioned she became, and she wondered if she were wasting her time.

  ★

  Johanna pulled out Myrddin’s memoir and opened it to the illustration she’d seen the day before.