In one swift movement, she grabbed his neck and somersaulted onto his back. Henri tried to grab her, but when he couldn’t reach her, he flung himself from the ledge.
As Bolswaithe and Thomas ran to the edge, they watched as Henri flew with Killjoy still hanging on to his neck. Henri tried to shake her off, but she used four of her arms to grab his wings and direct their flight toward the arena.
Henri crashed into the middle, lifting up a cloud of debris from which Killjoy emerged unscathed.
“And what do you see?” Henri grunted as the cloud dissipated. He was kneeling and holding his left arm and side where cracks had appeared on his granite skin. He could not continue the fight even if he wanted to.
Killjoy approached him, “I see room for improvement,” she said as she called her assistants. “Take him to the flux well,” she told them and then she caressed his face. “You are the bull. Proud and headstrong, I like that.”
“Thank you … Doyenne,” Henri said bowing his head and letting the assistants lead him through the door guarded by the tiger statues.
“So,” Killjoy said turning to Thomas and Bolswaithe, crossing her three sets of arms in front of her. “Should we spar a little more, or can we begin practice?”
“Practice, Doyenne,” Thomas and Bolswaithe said in unison.
Bad Omens
The following week was just a long succession of visits to and from the arena and the Hospital Wing. Killjoy set a three-hour daily session of training and she demanded complete attention and dedication, mentally and physically.
Tony had made the mistake of drinking a Spiftzer! during a session and he had to stay more than an hour running in circles to wear off the effects before Killjoy would let him go.
Training with Killjoy was like having a dozen black belt masters at the same time. She was skilled in all martial arts, and she honed their skills in the martial arts that they already knew: Thomas in Tae Kwon Do, Tony in Eskrima, and she schooled Henri in Jujitsu and Aikido. Bolswaithe was a special case, since he had downloaded all of the martial arts already. She set up a program for Bolswaithe that specialized in Sleeth-Arnoi, the fast and crippling martial art of the elves.
The week was especially brutal for Thomas since Mrs. Pianova still expected him to perform and attend all of his other chores, classes, and work. No matter how tired or battered from his sparring sessions, his work in the library couldn’t be neglected.
One afternoon just before closing the station, a familiar wiry man entered the library. He had the “Sonnets 262-267 For a River Nymph” tucked under his arm and sported a black eye. His thick glasses were held together by tape.
He placed the book and the ritual booklet in front of Thomas. “The repulsion rituals don’t work that well,” the man told him.
Thomas suppressed a smirk as much as he could. “I can search for another rituals book if you want?”
“No, I’m done with Nymphs.” The man tapped his fingers on the desk. “Can you check Fair Pixie By The Isle At Sea by Robert Louis Stevenson?”
“Sure I can.” Thomas entered the information, and two different entries appeared for the poem. “Do you want the dissemination approved version or the unabridged?”
The man tilted his head.
“Unabridged.”
As Thomas entered the data into the computer, a red warning appeared on screen. He read it aloud. “Not to be read aloud outside the Isle of Skye, not to be used after sunset or before morning. Cautionary note: Robert Louis Stevenson wrote The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde a month after composing this poem. Do you want the companion repulsion equipment?” Thomas pursed his lips.
“I, ah. Yes. Thank you and I agree to everything else.”
“Very well.” Thomas hit the order button, and after a swoosh and a clank, he opened the drawer. The booklet was just two pages long and had a drawing of a man reading to a beautiful human-sized fairy with translucent wings. The companion equipment looked like an overgrown taser gun. He pulled out the book and pressed the gun’s trigger. A blue arch of electricity crackled from the front of the gun. “Are you sure about this?” Thomas asked as he placed the gun on the desk.
The man opened the booklet and grinned as he read the poem inside. “Oh, yes.” He took the gun from the desk.
“Good luck,” Thomas said as the man left his station. He looked like he would really need it.
***
The very next day, Thomas was talking with Henri and Jean Luc when Tony entered the gates carrying two paper bags. They usually lunched on the lawn inside the gates. Bolswaithe never took part in lunch, but he prepared a picnic place for them, complete with a red-and-white squared cloth, a basket with ice and lemonade, and a little basin with clean water for them to wash their hands after they’d finished eating. Bolswaithe usually assumed the menial task of sweeping the front gate while they ate. He gave them privacy, but at the same time, kept a watchful eye from afar.
“What did you bring this time?” Thomas was getting to like Tony’s peculiar choice of foods. One day he would bring Japanese sushi and the next day Greek souvlaki, all of them prepared fresh and from their place of origin.
“Mexican!” Tony answered. “Direct from a little taqueria in downtown Mexico City.”
“Any chimichangas?” Thomas loved the little fried burritos.
Tony gave him a stern look. “If you ask for a chimichanga or a burrito in Mexico City you’ll probably get shot. No, I brought real Mexican.” He pulled out what looked like a rolled piece of cardboard and a plastic cup with limes. “Chicharron de queso, Volcan de Carne Asada, and Agua de Tamarindo.” Tony placed a plate of carne asada covered with mini tortillas and two large glasses of a brownish liquid and four types of salsa in plastic cups in front of Thomas.
“Is that healthy for you?” Jean Luc asked from his column.
“Just because you can’t enjoy food doesn’t mean you have to spoil it for us,” Tony said. “Try it, Thomas.”
The brown liquid had little pieces of something that looked like chili floating in it. He closed his eyes and sipped, expecting the liquid to be a prank. Instead, the water had the most wonderful sweet and refreshing taste. “This is really good,” he said.
Tony gloated with his mouth full at the grotesques. “Take that rock face! The kid can be taught!”
After they’d finished the whole plate, they sprawled out on the grass. “You know what, Thomas?” Tony was patting his stomach. “I was beginning to regret being your bodyguard. I thought there would be more action. But using the mansion for these little trips is worth it. Plus, I just received my first paycheck today. Ka-ching!”
“And the company?” Henri asked.
Tony rolled on his stomach. “The company couldn’t be better.” He threw a plastic sword at Thomas. “Except, of course, for Kiran. That woman would give drill sergeants a run for their money.”
“Come on, Baboon. She’s not that bad,” Henri chuckled.
“You say that because she has a thing for you, you big bad bull. She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you.” Thomas also thought that Killjoy had something going on with the Grotesque, and him with her. He could just see it in the way they sparred, like watching a married couple having an argument.
“And why don’t you have a nickname? Even Bolsy got one. Mr. Chameleon of the Thousand Moves. I’ll tell you what, I sure hope I’m like him when I’m that age.” He shot a hand salute to Bolswaithe, which was promptly returned.
Bolswaithe had asked Thomas to keep secret that he was a robot from Tony and Henri. They would eventually find out, but he wanted to know how long it would take them to notice that he wasn’t human for marketing purposes. Besides, the longer they took to notice, the more grief he would give them about it once they found out.
“Heads up!” Jean Luc said as the main gates of the mansion opened and an SUV rolled onto the grounds amidst a cloud of dust. The vehicle stopped in front of them and the driver’s door flung open.
> Tasha, dressed in desert gear, flashed Thomas a smile as she stepped from the SUV. “Hello,” she said. “It’s good to see you.”
Thomas’s jaw dropped. He stood up and approached her. “I’m glad to see you too,” he said wiping his hands on his pants. “How was your trip?”
“Oh, it was…dusty.” She jumped and dust floated from her clothing. “We haven’t heard about Morgan,” she said placing a hand on his shoulder, “but I’m sure we’ll find him.”
Thomas was mesmerized by her eyes. He felt as if he was losing himself in them. He would’ve continued to stare into them forever if Tony’s black leather jacket hadn’t interposed itself between him and Tasha.
“Hello,” Tony said extending a hand. “I’m Tony Della Francesca. Thomas’s bodyguard. I’m glad to finally meet you.”
Tasha shook Tony’s hand. “Bodyguard?” she asked, smiling at Thomas.
“Yes, your highness.” Tony stressed the words as he continued to grip her hand tightly. “King Seryaan thought it would be wise to assign a full-time bodyguard for Thomas.”
Thomas saw her face change for a second. He thought he saw anger in her eyes at the mention of the King, but it dissipated as quickly as it appeared.
“So, you’ve met the King?” she asked trying to keep a smile on her face.
“Oh yes,” Tony continued. “Wise, old, King Seryaan… Your nephew. Isn’t he?”
Tasha snatched her hand from Tony’s grip and tightened it into a fist.
“My nephew, indeed,” she said icily. “I’ll make sure to tell him that I’ve met your acquaintance.” She briefly turned around and headed toward the SUV.
Thomas could see how she tried to subdue her anger. “I’m meeting with Doctor Franco. I’ve news about a possible sign,” she told Thomas with a smile. “Get in the car so I can tell you both.”
Thomas took a step forward, but Tony placed his arm in front of his chest. “We’ll meet you there, your highness,” Tony told her. “We still have to pick up here.”
Tasha centered her gaze on Tony. “As you wish.” She slammed the door and sped off through a trail that led to the mansion’s garage.
“Why did you do that?” Thomas demanded as soon as the car was out of sight. “You blew her off completely!”
Tony began to put the trash into the basket. “Look, Thomas. I’m going to hate being the one to break it to you. But, she’s an elf,” he said, “and elves are different from us.”
“Different is not wrong.” Thomas was almost yelling. “And she…”
Tony faced him. “She likes you? That’s what you were going to say isn’t it? That she likes you.”
Thomas took a step forward. “Yeah, she likes me.”
“She’s three thousand year old!” Tony said. “No matter how she looks. She’s old. Ancient. And ancient women don’t hang out with sixteen-year-olds. She’s up to something Thomas. I can smell it. She wants you wrapped around her little finger, and by what I just saw that’s where she has you right now.”
“Tony’s on to something,” Henri said. “You were lost there for a second.”
Lost in her eyes, Thomas thought. Every time he looked into those eyes he felt helpless.
“Maybe I screwed up your date, kid,” Tony pushed the basket into Thomas’s chest, “but maybe I saved your life. Think about it for a second, will you? The power she holds over you isn’t normal.” Tony walked toward the entrance leaving Thomas to carry the trash.
“Damn it!” Thomas stomped the ground.
“He’s a baboon,” Henri said from the column, “but he’s not a bad friend. He’s only looking after you.”
“I know.” Thomas finished picking up the trash and followed Tony inside. A small part of him had always known that there was something unusual about the power Tasha had over him. He had scratched it as infatuation since the beginning. But, what if it wasn’t?
The Control Room
Bolswaithe led them through the left corridor and into a circular room with seven doors. He entered a code into a panel on the wall and the second door to the right opened with a hiss.
It was as if Thomas had entered the command and control center for the NASA Space Control Program. Row after row of manned computer stations filled the room at different levels, and the walls were covered with monitors, each one centered on a different continent.
The central monitor displayed a world map with lines and bright dots feeding continuous information. At least a hundred technicians, human and faun, manned the computers, typing furiously, and relaying instructions through their headgear unaware of Thomas’s presence in the room. Thomas followed Bolswaithe in awe to the uppermost level, while Tony walked sullenly behind them.
Tasha was waiting for them at the entrance of a glass elevator.
“Impressive isn’t it?” Tasha whispered to Thomas. She smiled at him. “From here we can see what’s happening in the whole world.”
For the very first time, Thomas tried to avoid her eyes. Centering his gaze on the monitors outside, he simply answered with a nod. Tasha immediately stepped away from him.
The elevator took them high above the control room and into an octagonal room with huge windows. From this vantage point, they had a complete view of the people working below them, as well as the monitors displayed on the walls.
Doctor Franco was waiting beside a circular table in the center of the room. He was dressed casually and had exchanged his top hat with a simple black baseball cap, but the paisley cravat and the monocle were still hanging around his neck.
Tasha was the first to leave the elevator. “I have good news, Doctor!” she said, approaching the central table.
“Ah, Tasha!” the Doctor greeted her with open arms. “I heard you found something interesting. Show us, please.”
The Doctor called everybody to the table. Once they sat down, Tasha pressed the tabletop, which turned out to be a large computer screen. A map of the world was displayed on the table, filled with numbers and lines, taking its feed from the largest monitor in the control room.
“Before the first Book of Concord was written, the world was infused by Elemental and Wraith magic,” Tasha said. “It took billions of years for life to shut out Wraith magic. When elves were just a newborn race, the world was still ruled by the ancient races that…” she paused, looking for the right word, “…dissipated once Wraith magic began to fade from the world.”
“Have you read your Lovecraft assignments?” the Doctor asked Thomas and Tony. Both just arched their shoulders.
“How about The Book of Beasts?”
“I’ve been here three weeks, Doc,” Tony offered.
“And you won’t be here much longer if you don’t keep up,” the Doctor warned.
Tasha cleared her throat before Tony could retort. “These ancient wraiths had many cities. Most disappeared with them, some were destroyed after being abandoned, but there are rumors of some ruins in the deep recesses of the world. The city of Ormagra is one of the most referenced.”
Tasha pressed the map, zooming in on the Mediterranean. “I always thought that the city of Maresha in Israel was somehow connected to Ormagra.”
Photographs and depictions of the ancient human city flashed on the screen. Tasha continued. “The upper city was destroyed around the year 40 BC, but its extensive carved underground remains. This is one of the Bell Caves at the site.” The photographs showed caves with holes in their roofs through which bright sunlight filtered and illuminated their insides.
“And I was right,” Tasha continued. “Using Elven and Wraith magic, I’ve found a passage through one cave uniting Maresha to Ormagra.”
The Doctor straightened up. “Wraith magic is highly unstable, Tasha. Dangerous. Even for you.”
“It got the job done,” Tasha said a little brusquely. “I’ve opened a stable portal and my team is inside. We’ve found many relics, and what seems to be another clue to the Book of Concord.” She pulled on her sleeve and pressed a button on her wrist com
municator. Suddenly, a video pop-up was transferred to the tabletop. “This is from an R.O.V. we sent through a small opening. We are laser-drilling a tunnel to reach this room.”
Millions of white insects were scurrying on the cave wall. They formed patterns as they weaved in lines that crisscrossed or formed whirls, which dissolved inside a larger circle.
“How long have the bugs been doing this?” The Doctor zoomed in on the picture until the image encompassed the whole tabletop.
“We heard them as soon as we entered Ormagra,” Tasha replied. “For all we know, they’ve always been on that wall.”
Thomas leaned closer to the screen.
“Can you sense anything?” the Doctor asked.
There might be a greater meaning to what the insects were doing, but Thomas was sure that he needed to see them first-hand to crack the code they were weaving. “No,” he answered, “but it looks like it could be a sign.”
“Then you have to go there.” The Doctor hit the floor with his cane. “Tasha will get everything ready for… when?” he looked at Tasha.
“Three days,” she answered. “We need to finish drilling first and set up lighting and scaffolds.”
“Three days is perfect.” The Doctor tapped on the computer and a green light turned on. “Gives you enough time to meet Elise.”
A little questioning frown formed on Tasha’s brow.
The Doctor stood up as the elevator doors hissed open. A girl emerged from the elevator and approached the table. As Tasha stood, Thomas couldn’t help but notice the questioning look forming on her face.
“Tarsaa o Hergelin.” The girl bowed in front of Tasha. Her hair was light auburn and her eyes were deep blue. She had fair skin, and although she was beautiful, she wasn’t in Tasha’s league. “I’m honored to be in your presence,” the girl continued.
Tasha nodded at the newcomer. “Greetings, Erisham Heriam-Conner. Is my nephew well?”
Thomas could sense tension behind the question. The auburn-haired girl nodded curtly.
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