Chapter 4
Jamie looked up from his desk as he heard a start of
surprise from the doorway. Del stood framed in the doorway, apron spotted with
flour from the morning’s baking. “You’re up a bit early,” Del said, surprise
and worry mingling in his voice.
“Nothing is wrong, I just couldn’t get back to sleep,” Jamie
told him. Apparently he was not the only one remembering their early morning
boulder in the bedroom. As a brownie, Del was entrusted with the care of all
those who lived in the house he looked after.
He had taken very poorly to the attempted assault on occupants sleeping
under his chosen roof.
Del relaxed at Jamie’s comment. “Well breakfast is ready and unless things
have changed drastically overnight, it’ll be a good idea to get a fair amount
in you before the world goes haywire again.”
“Agreed,” Jamie replied.
His hand was cramping from the unaccustomed note taking and even though
he was only readying the highlighted passages, his head felt full to bursting
from the elaborate prose. Reggie apparently refused to allow any sentence that
didn’t take up at least four lines space in his book. While Jamie didn’t
consider himself stupid, with all of the foreign concepts cloaked in flowery
terms, he often had to read sentences through a few times before he was able to
distill the actual meaning from the words.
He thought about the meaning he had managed to find as he
followed Del back to the kitchen. From
what he gathered the visilore could either be used as a sort of magic mirror to
see a specific location or it could be used as a portal, where the person using
it could just step through. If one wanted to actually speak to someone at a
separate location then they too needed to have a vislore and activate it like
connecting a telephone to a network.
“But if I find the location of the other Keeper’s Houses
there should be a way to contact them and get them to activate their
visilores,” Jamie mused. The book had
thus far hinted at such a function but Jamie had yet to find the instructions. As
Del chuckled, Jamie realized he had spoken out loud. “Sorry,” he apologized.
“Don’t matter to me,” Del replied. He pushed open the
swinging kitchen door and Jamie’s belly rumbled at the delicious smells wafting
towards him.
“Ah see,” Del said triumphantly. “I told you a good breakfast wouldn’t go
amiss.” In complete agreement, Jamie piled his plate with biscuits, ham and
eggs. Del filled his plate and for a few
moments they ate in companionable silence.
“Do you know anything about ghosts?” Jamie finally said as
he split a second biscuit in half and began to add butter and strawberry jam to
it.
“Ghosts?” Del asked as he picked up his morning mug of tea.
“Can’t say I’ve ever thought much about them. Seem to be more of a human thing
than a Fae thing,” Dell added. “Maybe
because you die more often than we do.”
Jamie nodded. “Good
point,” He told del. “I hadn’t thought
of that.” Although Del looked like he
was only a little older than Jamie, he knew the brownie was at least a couple
of hundred years old. Thus far he hadn’t
gotten up the courage to ask just how much older.
“Did you see a ghost then?” Del asked.
“I’m not certain,” Jamie said slowly. “At the moment that seems to be the sanest
solution I can think of. Although to be
honest it doesn’t sound much like any ghostly encounter I’ve ever heard
of.” Jamie thought of the ghost hunting
shows that seemed quite popular. Idly he wondered what would happen if they
tried to scan his house with their multitude of electrical gizmos. Somehow he didn’t think that would be too
good an idea. From what he had seen on the shows they seemed overly fond
of recounting horrific events that took
place within the building they were scanning.
Jamie had the feeling House would quickly become offended and retaliate.
“So what happened?” Del asked as he took a forkful of his
eggs.
Jamie quickly recounted his dream and how, upon waking he
had found the extra notes and bookmarked pages. “And the notes with the
booklist is done with the same handwriting as the dedication in the book I’m
reading.” He concluded.
Del nodded. “Well, I
don’t know about hauntings in general, having never really been exposed to them
or having seen the television shows you mentioned,” Del began. “But I do know that the Keeper of the Crossroads
is not like the average person and the House of the Keeper certainly isn’t like
any other House.”
“That is for certain,” Jamie interjected.
“Exactly,” Del confirmed with a nod and a smile. “So why should a ghost here be like a ghost
elsewhere?” he concluded.
“I suppose it shouldn’t,” Jamie answered.
“And with the House’s shields active and functioning as they
ought, I doubt anything with ill intent could enter, even if it was a ghost.”
Del seemed satisfied with his logic and Jamie concluded he was probably right.
He finished his breakfast and Del shooed him out of the kitchen when he
attempted to help clean up. Leaving the
brownie to his work, Jamie made his way into what he had always referred to as
the map room.
The map room had started out life as a formal dining room,
and Jamie was fairly certain that under the weight of maps, the dining table
still lurked. Maps were stretched out
across its surface in layers several inches thick. They were rolled into tubes and bundled in a
multitude of small containers that lined the wall. A large map showing the current property line
took up a large chunk of one wall.
Across from the property map was one of the few documents in the room
that was not a map of any sort and it was to this document that Jamie went
first.
The item looked more like a mural than a document and when
Jamie looked he could see his family tree in its complex entirety covering the
wall. For a moment his eyes ran over the various branches, surprised at how
many of them terminated so abruptly after only a few generations of separation
from the main branch.
“Maybe they stopped adding after second and third cousins
died off,” Jamie said softly to himself. Somehow seeing all of those birth and
death dates listed in one place was somewhat daunting. He Shook himself, and
the slight feeling of unease that settled in on him away and began tracing the
tree’s branches down to himself, surprised that he had never actually looked
for his name on the tree before. His name was listed towards the bottom of the
chart, as expected. It was rather close
to the floor.
“Not much space for the next generation he said, tapping his
own name on the wall. As he did, his name shifted upwards to the center of the
wall, rising about three feet as though the family tree was like a window shade
that had just been rolled upwards. Jamie
straightened, pleased that he would not have to shift a multitude of maps out
of the way to read what was written on the wall, but slightly unsettled by the
wall’s actions.
“Thank you,” he said automatically, not wanting to seem
ungrateful. In response Jamie watched as the blank space under his name was
suddenly filled with empty boxes. There
was a blank space that looked like it was waiting for his wife’s name and
twelve spots for children. Each of the children had space for their prospective
spouses and twelve children of their own as well.
“I think that’s a bit unrealistic,” he told the helpful
wall. The wall seemed to shimmer and Jamie blinked. There were now only three spots for children
under his name. Under the blank spot
left for his first child there was only one spot, his second child had, like
him three spots for children and his third child had five spaces for children
as well as two spots for spouses.
“Optimistic considering how long it’s been since my last
real date,” Jamie commented. The wall shimmered again as though processing this
information. When the shimmering
stopped, the wall remained the same.
Jamie decided to stop questioning it. Instead of looking to his future,
Jamie concentrated on his past. His father’s name and bloodline were clearly
written out. When he looked at the space where his mother’s name should be, he
saw a name written there but for some reason it seemed out of focus.
Jamie squinted his eyes trying to read the
name, as though this were an eye exam.
The name didn’t become any clearer.
He stepped closer, still nothing.
Thinking of how the wall reacted when he touched it, he gently tapped
his mother’s name. He felt a jolt of
electricity bite and jerked his hand away from the wall, shaking his finger to
lessen the pain. Having learned early on
that in this house words had very definite meanings and repercussions, he
clamped his mouth shut around the words that wanted to escape.
He clenched and unclenched his stung hand to help work out
the pain as he shifted his gaze to the spots where his mother’s parents should
have been listed. Again, he could tell something was written in the space and
he could even tell it was a name of some sort, but he simply couldn’t make it
out. It was as if his brain refused to let his eyes focus on the words. He let
his eyes wander over the branch holding his mother’s family. They were all the same way. Jamie leaned back in thought for a second.
The wall seemed to respond to his voice so he decided to make a test.
“Albrecht Fulton, please” Jamie said to the wall, feeling
only slightly silly. The wall became a
blur and Jamie blinked as his eyes threatened to cross. He looked at the wall and Albe’s name was in
the center, Jamie’s own having been shifted down. All of the names were clearly written and
quite legible.
“Thank you,” Jamie told the wall. Recalling the overheard conversation Jamie
once again looked at the tree. “Reginald Huffington the fourth, please” Jamie
asked. Again the wall blurred as its contents moved. Jamie blinked hard as a
different section of the tree took center stage. The brackets holding the names were printed
in crisp clear ink, but the names they contained were blurred and illegible.
“But it did move, Thank you,” he told the wall. “Rudolph Fulton, please,” Jamie asked, calling
his father’s name to the center of the tree. “Thanks,” he once again told the
wall as it shifted to accommodate him.
Jamie was the only
child listed under Rudy’s name. There
was no corresponding box, blurry or otherwise where Michael’s name could have
been placed.
“Bella Fulton, please,” Jamie asked stating the name of the
woman he had grown up believing was his mother. His heart beat fast. If Bella’s name was the one blurred out then
what he had always believed was true. If
it didn’t then she wasn’t his mother at all.
The wall stayed stationary. There
was no shifting of names.
“Thank you,” he told the wall. “So she isn’t my mother after
all.” Jamie studied the wall, his eyes
continually drifting to the blurred out branch.
Clearly the helpful family tree was not going to be able to help with
this one. “That leaves the journals,”
Jamie mused. A thought occurred to him.
Jim had been the family lawyer for a number of years. While Jim had grown up with Jamie, he had
taken over the practice from his father, who had taken it from his. He was unsure how many generations the Evers
law firm extended but their practice history certainly would have extended far
enough that they might have some records.
“They have been the family lawyers forever,” Jamie said to
himself. “They would at least have
copies of the wills. And probably death certificates as well.” He wasn’t
certain how much a law office was required to keep on file or for how long but
as the Evers family specialized in dealing with people who tended to live much
longer than a normal human lifespan, he thought there was a chance their
internal records went back further than the law required.
“And what about my birth certificate,” Jamie said with a
start. He stepped away from the wall and
headed upstairs to his bedroom. When he
had come out to live at Albe’s place he had brought his lock box containing all
of his important papers, including his birth certificate. He had used his copy a number of times over
the years whether it was using it as proof of citizen ship for his driver’s license
or passport and no one had ever mentioned anything being off with it before.
“Somehow I think that the general strangeness of not being
able to focus on a name would have stuck out in someone’s mind before now,” he
said to himself. He reached his room and quickly pulled the lock box out from
under his bed. In a flash he had it
unlocked and his birth certificate was unfolded and in his hands. He scanned down the page reading all of the pertinent
information. Nothing seemed wrong. He blinked as he got to the end of the page.
He couldn’t recall reading his mother’s name.
Jamie looked at his father’s name and found it easily. He looked to the line that should have his
mother’s name and his eyes just sort of slid past it without taking the
information in. Jamie ground his teeth.
“My mother’s name is,” he said trying to focus on the
line. Again, his gaze seemed to slide
off of the page without taking in any of the information. He felt as though he had read the information
and that it was all correct and in order, but he couldn’t for the life of him
remember the name. Jamie continued to
stare at the page, feeling as though if he just concentrated enough, he would
be able to get the information to stick.
“My mother is…” he repeated.
A blinding pain between his eyes caused him to cry out and drop the
page. The pain faded as soon as he was no longer looking at his birth
certificate. “I don’t think so,” he told the page. He picked the paper up from
the floor and as soon as he looked at the page, the pain flashed through his
skull like a scalpel. She could feel it
cutting into him, trying to force him to accept that he had read the name and
that everything was as it should be.
His eyes teared up through the pain but he continued to
focus. He could see the lines of the form. He could see the typewritten letters
that stated ‘mother’s name’ below a thick black line. His vision wavered and he could see a blurred
out handwritten name on the line above. He
focused all his attention on the line.
Jamie felt his vision start to darken at the edges and felt himself
falling forward as the pain caused him to black out.
Jamie came to, half sprawled across his bed, the pain no
longer searing as he was not trying to look at the page. A headache was
pounding fiercely behind his eyes as though a drummer was using his optical
nerve for practice. For a few minutes Jamie lay looking at the ceiling.
“It has to be a spell of some sort,” Jamie decided. “Both on the wall and on the page.” He
realized that what he knew about spells would fill a page much smaller than the
one on which his birth certificate was printed.
“Although I did learn one thing,” he said, his voice a dry
croak as he attempted to sit up. “Brute force, might not be the way to go.” His
vision swam as he settled himself in a seated position and looked around. His birth certificate was on the floor. He bent to retrieve it and could feel the
pain waiting, ready to begin round two.
“I’m just putting it away,” he said out loud. The feeling of
eminent pain lessened as he folded the page and closed and locked the box. When he slid the box under the bed, the
feeling dissipated as though whatever was protecting the name from being read
was satisfied it had done its job.
“Well if a house can be sentient, why can’t a spell achieve
job satisfaction,” he said to himself. He rubbed his aching temple. “I think I’m
going to find some aspirin.” Jamie sighed.
“Lesson learned, magic one, brute force, zero.” Jamie wondered if Albe’s journals were
similarly warded and found himself less than eager to peruse their contents
looking for his mother’s name.” Maybe I’ll just try giving Jim a call first.”
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