Volume 1: Bailex, #1

by Erin Everleigh

  “That is pretty cool, Kieran,” Giuseppe agreed and winked at Kieran. “You were spot on with the birthday thing. It’s not a coincidence that everything started to change after your twelfth birthday. It’s a shame though that you haven’t had anyone to guide you, or to at least ease your fears. I’m sorry that it took you so long to find me.” Giuseppe’s face was solemn as he patted Kieran’s leg.

  “So, I’m not going crazy? Everything that happened was…expected?” Kieran was through with assumptions and guessing. He needed some concrete answers.

  Laughter bubbled from Giuseppe’s lips. “No, Kieran. You’re not going crazy. Remember I mentioned that only certain people know of The Cottage—that only certain people can come here?” Kieran nodded. “You are one of those people, Kieran. That’s why the portal allowed you through, but not your friend.” He motioned above the fireplace to where Riya still rested against the mail post with her head tilted to the sky.

  “That’s a relief,” Kieran ran his hands through his hair. It was nice to hear his sanity confirmed by someone who seemed to really understand his situation.

  “To answer your question of whether it was expected…that’s a little more complicated. For some it is, and for some, like you, it’s suspected, but not certain.”

  “Like me?” Kieran was lost again and it showed.

  “Let me explain.” Giuseppe bent over and reached one arm under the coffee table. He dragged a grey tin box along the woven rug that protected the wood planked floor and placed it on the table in front of them.

  “Wait,” Kieran stopped Giuseppe just as he was about to remove the lid. “What’s that?”

  “What’s what?” Giuseppe examined the plain tin box.

  “That,” Kieran pointed to the lid. “That symbol.” He touched the symbol that was etched onto the lid. “This is the symbol from my dream. The symbol that was on the note my mother left for me. The note that told me to come here.”

  “This,” Giuseppe removed the lid from the box. “This is a Bailex,” he explained. He held the lid up between them so that Kieran could get a better look.

  “Bailex,” Kieran repeated. Finally the mystery symbol had a name.

  “It’s the symbol of the Modern Charmyns. It’s a representation of our history and our solidarity—Although divided, we are still united,” Giuseppe went on to explain. “You will be seeing quite a lot of this symbol now.”

  “Charmyns?” Kieran questioned.

  “I’ll explain.” Giuseppe began removing items from the tin box and lining them up on the tabletop. There were a few vials filled with different coloured liquids. A small container with a couple of capsules, something that looked like a mini coffee press, and a small plastic case with some items in it that Kieran couldn’t identify. “Here we go,” Giuseppe pulled a piece of paper and a pencil from the opened box and began to clarify.

  “You were born, a Potential.” Giuseppe drew two stick figures standing next to each other, a man and a woman. “For the record,” he shifted his eyes to Kieran, “I never claimed to be an artist,” Giuseppe chuckled and then continued. “Your father being human,” he pointed to the male stick figure, “and your mother being Charmyn—that certain group of people we’ve been talking about,” he pointed to the female stick figure, then drew a downward arrow between them, “created a Potential.” Giuseppe spelled out the word, then tapped it with the point of the pencil, and looked up at Kieran, “you.” Kieran looked to Giuseppe, then back to the paper.

  “A Potential until between your twelfth and your thirteenth birthdays. A time period we refer to as The Window, when your fate is decided—whether you will follow in the human or the Charmyn bloodline.” Giuseppe drew a line splitting into two downward arrows. Under one he wrote ‘Human’ and under the other, he wrote ‘Charmyn’. “And it appears that your fate has been determined.” Giuseppe drew circles around the word ‘Charmyn’. “Welcome, Kieran,” Giuseppe beamed. His smile paralleled his overall glow.

  Charmyn. Kieran pondered.

  Hello, my name is Kieran. I’m not crazy. I’m a Charmyn.

  The corners of Kieran’s mouth rose. “Thank you,” he answered softly.

  “The Charmyns are an ancient people who possess various powers, or abilities—as we generally refer to them. Each Charmyn’s ability is different, almost like a fingerprint. So, other Charmyns who possess a similar ability to yours, the ability to, ‘see things’, as you’ve put it, will experience it slightly differently. And to make things even more complex, each Charmyn’s ability is constantly changing and developing—with age, training, and experience. The ability of a Charmyn is not known at birth. Even if born to two Charmyn parents, the child must also wait until The Window to discover his or her ability. Specific abilities are not passed down from parent to child.”

  “What is your ability?” Kieran asked.

  “Me,” Giuseppe paused. “I’m something a little bit different.”

  Kieran’s eyebrows rose.

  “I’m a Charmyn. But I have a specific purpose. I’m a Keeper.”

  Kieran’s eyebrows held their position. “A Keeper?”

  “Yes. I’m the Keeper of the Human Realm. With this role comes the ability of an uncanny memory—precise, to the minute details of events and happenings, even as time has passed.”

  “Like a photographic memory? I watched a documentary about that once.”

  “Very similar to that. I’m quite literally a protector and a gateway of the past, present, and future. I physically record what is necessary. And whatever has not been recorded, remains here,” He pointed to his head. “However, you won’t find any information on the Charmyn race in any library or on any website.”

  “Why?”

  “There are many measures in place to protect the race that you will learn about in the days and years to come. History has shown that being different, in the way that we are, is not always accepted, and can often come at great costs.”

  “Where do you find it then?” Kieran’s voice fell. “All the information…” He had hoped that with some newly learned keywords, a heightened search for texts and articles would prove itself to be more successful than his previous attempts.

  “The original historical texts are found in the CCL—Central Charmyn Library. Copies and abridged versions can be found in other places around the globe, but are available only to those who are permitted to read them—members of the Charmyn race. The other types of physical records are housed here, in the records room.” Kieran thought back to the towering filing cabinets. “Those file cabinets contain information on every Charmyn that has lived in the human realm.”

  “That explains the room’s dimensions. Why not transfer and store all the information on a computer? It would be much easier to find things and wouldn’t take up so much space.”

  “Ah ha! Exactly. Much easier for the information to get into the wrong hands. Come let me show you.” Giuseppe stood and Kieran followed.

  The room didn’t seem quite as daunting this time. Knowledge could do that. Kieran understood this more and more lately. Questions on his long list were beginning to be checked off. And even though more were being added, sometimes at a faster rate than those that were being removed, there was a calm that came with the knowledge that he was acquiring. He was a fast learner. He just needed to get his hands on some of those texts.

  Giuseppe stood in front of the file cabinet that was adjacent to the doorway of the records room. “There is some order to all this madness,” he looked to Kieran with a wide smile and touched his palm to the top drawer of the cabinet. A dot, just like the one that had traced Kieran’s palm earlier, followed the curves of Giuseppe’s fingers. “The files are ordered chronologically and according to region, except for the files in this cabinet. This one is reserved for Potentials. Once fates have been determined, they will be filed accordingly.”

  A loud click echoed in the room that ran miles high. Giuseppe pulled the drawer open.
“Only my palm will open the cabinets. And only the Keeper understands the full intricacies of the filing system.” Giuseppe sifted through some folders until he came to the one with Kieran’s name spelled neatly on the top tab. Giuseppe turned and set the folder on the table, then opened the flap to search its contents. “See, here you are. Kieran Johnson, nee Battley.”

  “Battley?” Kieran moved closer, confusion blanketing his features.

  “Yes. You were born on May 12, 2005, to Annabelle Hastings and Nicholas Battley.”

  Kieran’s eyes bore into the piece of paper.

  My parents.

  Kieran felt as if a large rock had lodged itself in his throat, making it almost impossible for him to speak. Only a rasp of his voice made it through. “But my last name is Johnson.”

  “That it is.” Giuseppe conceded. “As of November 8, 2010.” Giuseppe tapped the entry on the paper that depicted his name change.

  “But…Why?”

  “I’m sorry, Kieran. I don’t have any of the whys for anything here. This is set up to monitor and protect the race, not to judge. So when I received a communication through the portal on November 8, 2010, I did as I always do—I recorded it and filed it.”

  Kieran swallowed his frustration. It wasn’t Giuseppe’s fault. “What else does it say in there?” Kieran asked, referring to the other loose pages in his file.

  “This one shows that you were born in Region 22, but moved to Region 25 when you were three years old. Each of those mailboxes you saw mounted above the fireplace are portals to designated regions around the globe. And each region has a representative through which I receive pertinent communications. Yearly censuses are completed to keep track of the residents of each region. When residents move from one region to another, it’s noted in their file. The file is then transferred to the appropriate cabinet.” He motioned to the cabinets surrounding them. “When you were born, your parents submitted your birth registration. It consisted of your date of birth, gender and palm print, along with their names and lineage.” Giuseppe flipped to Kieran’s original birth record containing all of that information. Human was pencilled in next to his father’s name, and Charmyn was penciled in next to his mother’s name.

  Kieran thought back to the screen when he first entered. “So that’s how you have my hand print from when I was born?”

  “Correct. The representative’s duty is to protect its people. To report on any deaths and births, and any issues that may arise that could potentially compromise the Charmyn race. And all of that information is transferred to me, or whoever is the Keeper at that time. But for the last 193 years, it’s been yours truly.”

  Kieran’s mouth fell open. “One hundred… and…”

  “Yes. Something I forgot to mention. Being a Keeper means that I’m everlasting.”

  Kieran’s mouth fell open, “How old are you?”

  Giuseppe’s lips twitched. “Just turned 218.”

  Kieran smiled and leaned back, examining him. “Does that mean you’ll live forever?”

  “Not forever. But Keepers are rare. They only come along maybe once every couple of centuries.”

  “That is so cool!” Kieran beamed.

  “I guess it is.” Giuseppe patted Kieran’s knee. “We age naturally until we turn 30, and then the aging process stops. That is until another Keeper is born. The rate at which we age after that is dependent on that other Keeper and his or her readiness to take our place.”

  “Has a new Keeper been born yet?”

  “She has. She is 17 years old now. She’ll be joining me next year, once she turns 18. The transition can take anywhere from a few years, to decades. There are many factors at play. But when the time is right, she will take over. I will be relieved of my duties and rejoin my family.”

  It made sense to Kieran now—the photo of Giuseppe and his family. “So that’s why it’s been a while…your family…”

  “Yes. And because I’ve been here for so long, I don’t have ties to any of my family’s descendants.”

  “You must be lonely here.” It wasn’t a question, but rather a statement of truth. A truth Kieran had lived with now for seven years. The ache he often felt in his heart for his family—a family of which he didn’t have any recollection. He didn’t want to imagine how Giuseppe must feel. Having grown up with his family, but then being without them for so many lifetimes.

  “Yes, and no. I miss my family, but this is my calling. And it’s an honour. I was blessed with this gift, and I don’t resent it for a moment.” Pride shone through Giuseppe’s eyes.

  “How does someone know if they’re a Keeper?”

  Giuseppe pointed to his hair. “It’s been this way since I was born. A dead giveaway.”

  They both laughed. Giuseppe gathered the papers from Kieran’s file and tucked them back into the folder.

  “I’ll file this properly later, given that you’re no longer considered a Potential,” Giuseppe placed the file back into the cabinet and winked at Kieran.

  Giuseppe paused with his palm flush to the front of cabinet drawer until a click, indicating that the drawer was locked, echoed around them. “We should finish up in the other room,” he headed for the doorway.

  At first, Kieran wasn’t sure what Giuseppe was referring to, but then he remembered the items Giuseppe had meticulously arranged on the coffee table.

  Kieran hesitated.

  This could be my one chance.

  You’ll regret it if you don’t ask, Kieran coached himself—even though he wasn’t sure he was ready to find out the answer.

  “Wait…” Kieran’s voice was more urgent than he had intended. Giuseppe turned to face him. “The files…You have files on my parents then, right? Do you know where they are?” Kieran’s heart pounded in his chest.

  Giuseppe’s face softened. “I have a file for your mother. But your father, not being of the Charmyn lineage, I wouldn’t have anything for him.”

  “One out of two isn’t bad,” Kieran tried at banter but failed.

  “Annabelle Hastings…” Giuseppe walked the perimeter of the room and stopped at a pair of cabinets on the opposite side of the table. “Here we go, Region 25.” A set of twin rails was mounted between the pair of filing cabinets. Attached to these rails was a waist high compartment with wired walls, just big enough to fit one person. It resembled a cage with no ceiling. Giuseppe stepped into it and latched the small door, securing himself inside. “Safety first. Always safety first.” He pointed his finger and then turned his back to Kieran.

  Giuseppe jostled a lever a few times until the compartment began to lift off of the floor. As Giuseppe ascended, Kieran examined the room more carefully. He noticed that these sets of rails, with their corresponding cages, were mounted between each pair of filing cabinets that surrounded the room.

  “Got it.” Giuseppe descended with a file in hand.

  Giuseppe spread the file out on the large table, as he had done with Kieran’s file, and began leafing through the pages. “Sorry, just give me a moment to look through this.”

  Kieran watched as Giuseppe scanned the pages. He noticed the document with his mother’s palm print, but it was much larger than the one Kieran had noted in his own file—more the size of an adult.

  “Mm-hmm,” Giuseppe collected the pages and returned them in the folder before Kieran had a chance to see anything else. “I’m sorry, Kieran. These files are private. I shouldn’t even be telling you what it says in here, but I sympathize with your situation. The last census your mother completed showed both of you living in Region 25. But since then, no censes has been completed for her. A search was initiated when it was first discovered that her whereabouts were not known. But five years ago, she was labelled as ‘Misplaced’.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that we don’t know where she is. This doesn’t happen often. But she’s not the first, and she won’t be the last.” He looked into Kieran’s eyes. “I’m
sorry. The search is still ongoing. We never give up on looking for our own. But it is unlikely that she will be found.”

  Kieran thought back to his mother’s letter. “She said she was in danger. That I was in danger…” His voice trailed off. “That I’m vulnerable. Do you think something bad happened to her?”

  “I couldn’t tell you. An integral part of the search, as in all searches, was confirmation of life or death. There was no evidence to conclude that she had passed. So it’s assumed that she’s alive. However, without confirmation, I can’t say for sure. The last communication we received from her was your name and guardianship change. I remember now,” Giuseppe’s eyes brightened in recollection. “She personally delivered that information to the mailbox. It isn’t commonly done that way. Traditionally, communications are relayed via the representatives.”

  Kieran lowered his head, fighting back tears. “Is there a bathroom I can use?”

  “Next door on your left.” Giuseppe pointed down the hallway, not addressing Kieran’s clearly emotional state.

  “Poor kid,” Giuseppe said to himself once Kieran was out of earshot.

  ***

  “So what’s all this for?” Kieran questioned, after having returned to the main room and taking his place on the couch next to Giuseppe. Neither he nor Giuseppe made any mention of Kieran’s little escape.

  “This,” Giuseppe flourished his arm, presenting the vials, canisters, and what looked like a miniature coffee press, set out on the coffee table, “is going to make you feel so much better.”

  Kieran raised his eyebrows.

  “Your mother was right. You are vulnerable. You have been experiencing all of these changes at full force. It’s too much for your body to handle all at once—which was not how it was intended. That is why you have been feeling ill. You need to learn to control your ability, to harness it, so it doesn’t overwhelm your body. What we are going to create is especially for you. Each Charmyn has his or her own unique formula. This will make you feel much better and more in control. More grounded.”