The Daykeeper's Grimoire (24 page)

“We’re goin’ to be so lonely the next few days,” Mrs. Findlay says. “What with you and the guests gone, and Alex off on a fishing trip. I don’t know what I’ll do!”

“Maybe you could take some time off, too,” I say. “Just have Mom cook for Uncle Li and Tenzo.” I look over at Mrs. Findlay and when she sees that I’m joking she laughs really hard; apparently she’s caught a glimpse of Mom’s kitchen skills. My mom is this technology genius who can’t even make a pancake without it having that bitter burnt taste on the edges.

Alex and Thomas walk in the door and each one gives me a very slight head nod. My life has morphed into a spy movie.

I run upstairs to finish my last task: emailing the girls with final details.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected], [email protected], [email protected]

Subject: Last-minute details

You all ROCK! I can’t believe you are so willing to help me with this project, crazy as it sounds! Now all that’s left to do is make some sort of poster or sign with the 800 number on it to call at the designated time. The password is KIN.

Things are getting so bad—the wars still rage, the economy sucks, and we’re going to bear the brunt of it if we don’t change things. Can’t wait to see what happens! Thanks so much. XO, Caity

Once I finish the email, I get to packing. I’m not going to need much since I’ll only be gone a few days and most of that time will be spent in an airplane.

Suddenly I’m dizzy and overcome with fear.

I sit down on the floor because I feel like I might even fall off a chair.

What am I doing? What am I
doing
?

I lie back on the floor and try to breathe. Curious about why I’m on the ground, Mr. Papers comes over and stares at me. Then I hear the door slowly open. I’m on the other side of the bed, but because it’s so tall I can see all the way under. Leather sandals with tire-tread soles—Bolon. Mr. Papers hops up on the bed, squawking, happy to see him.

Bolon walks around the bed right to me as if he knows exactly where I am. He looks down and says, “Hello, Caity,” as if it’s not at all strange that I’m flat on the floor.

He sits next to me with his legs crossed, then grabs my hand and pulls me up to a sitting position. I’m feeling a little steadier now. “How are you?” he asks.

“How do I look?” I reply.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Bolon asks.

His eyes are so dark that you can’t tell the iris from the pupil. When I was nine I went to horse camp and was assigned a horse named Pearl who became my best friend for the summer. She was all white except for these huge, glossy black eyes. Bolon’s eyes remind me so much of Pearl’s that I burst out in tears. For the first time I feel like I want my old life back.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m just having a … moment.”

“Why should you be sorry?” he says. “I cry every day.”

I look up. “You do?”

“How can you not? Look around at the world. I would be ashamed if I did
not
cry.”

I nod like I know what he’s talking about, but then I come clean. “Bolon, I think maybe I’m crying more for myself,” I admit. “I’m just kinda overwhelmed by all of this.”

“I know, Caity,” he says quietly as he takes my hand and puts it between his. I am always surprised by how smooth his skin feels because it looks so leathery. “Is there anything I can do to help you? If I could do this for you I would, but it is not possible. It is not
my
path.”

“I just feel like such an imposter. I mean, I didn’t even know where the Maya were from until this week. I think it would be so much better if you got a Mayan girl. I’m a white girl from San Francisco. How can I represent these people and this calendar and the whole 2012 thing?”

“You are representing information, not people. And it is
because
of your differences, not despite them, that you have been chosen,” he replies. “People will listen. Just because you have not been born in Mayan clothing this time around does not mean that you are not one of us.”

“Really?”

“Certainly. You are as much a Maya as I am. And as this unfolds you will remember more,” he says with a certainty that makes me believe him. “You must keep in mind that we are all just vibrations, just information and possibility. What you
look like
has nothing to do with your great purpose in life.”

I use the sleeve of my T-shirt to wipe my tears away. “And everyone has a great purpose?”

“Yes. You may think that you are special because your task seems so huge, but your great purpose is no more important than that of a nomadic child in Siberia, an orphaned child in Africa, or a wealthy child in Norway. What is most important is that you
remember
your great purpose.”

Hearing this actually relieves instead of offends me; somehow it takes the pressure off.

Sensing my relief Bolon says sternly, “You still need to fulfill your purpose; I just mean to tell you that all humans are equal when it comes to this. Every single human being is a lead in this play. All you young people have purposely come here at this time to shine light on the darkness, to help the spiral unfold.”

I am finally able to get air all the way into my lungs. “Okay,” I say. “I can do this.”

“It will be dangerous, you need to know that.” He pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket and puts it in my hand. “Here is an address in San Francisco. If you feel you are unsafe, go there.”

I look at the address and then fold it up. This kind of talk isn’t helping my confidence.

“But you also need to realize how powerful and dangerous
you
are,” he says with a smile. At that he gets up from the floor and walks out the door.

When I’m feeling steady again, I stand. Mr. Papers has curled up inside my suitcase. “I wish I could take you with me,” I say. “I won’t be gone long. I promise.” He looks down and plays with the zipper as I pet the soft fur on his chest. Instead of moving him from my bag, I just pack around him.

We both look up when we hear a knock at the door. Uncle Li lets himself in and says, “I just came to say goodbye and wish you luck, my friend.”

“Thanks. Any last words of advice?” I ask.

He replies, “As the prophet Zarathustra said,
Think good, do good, speak the truth
.”

I laugh. “I’ll try. Bolon keeps telling me I’ll know what to say when the time comes, but I’m not so sure.”

“I believe you will,” he says, leaning against my bedpost. “Easter Island, how about that? You’re going about as far away from here as you can!”

“Let’s not talk about it. I just got over a panic attack,” I say. “So is there any information from those books that could be helpful?”

Uncle Li pauses and then says, “It’s all very … esoteric
… so far.”

“Must be important if Donald would run off with them and never come back.”

“It’s fascinating,” he replies. “Lots of information that has only recently been discovered by modern science.”

“So do you know what it has to do with the Mayan calendar?”

“It all seems to be pointing in the direction of some sort of evolutionary event having to do with this Galactic Center energy and its relationship to human DNA.”

“I keep hearing about this evolutionary event, but what does that even mean?”

“Well, if it’s true that to help you must unify a large percentage of young people, then it means for the first time the task of evolving has been placed on the organism itself.”

“So we have to
help
the evolution process?” I ask. Suddenly this whole picture seemed like a nearly finished jigsaw puzzle that I was in sight of finishing. “Maybe that’s why there are more kids alive on Earth now than ever before—like maybe we have to hit a certain level for consciousness to change!”

“It’s possible. To be conscious the way humans are, an organism has to have ten billion nerve cells in the part of the brain that develops conscious thoughts; any less than that—like dogs that have only one billion—are not capable of being self-reflective in the way that humans are.”

“So maybe humans are like one big organism, one big brain, and once we hit a certain number of people with raised consciousness, then we’ll change everything …”

“You’ve got it. Now you just have to figure out how the tools you have, like the Mayan calendar, fit into the picture. And how to implement them without the Shadow Government stopping you.”

“I really wish you could come along,” I say.

Uncle Li nods. “I’ll be more use here, keeping your parents distracted,” he says as he gives me a hug. Then he holds me at arm’s length and looks into my eyes. “You can do this, Caitrina. Remember you are well loved; become that love and share it with others.”

“I think I would have gone insane if you hadn’t helped me through this,” I say.

Uncle Li looks at me for a long time, as if trying to memorize my face. Then he says, “Thank
you
,” and bows deeply at his waist before leaving.

I finish packing and then take the suitcase downstairs and put it in the Land Rover so my parents will only touch it once when I go from the ferry to the train; I don’t want them to have any reason to open it up and see the satellite phone.

Everyone is out walking so I head to the kitchen for lunch. Just as I enter I see Thomas quickly pulling his hand away from Mr. Papers’ cubby. “Ya wee monster!” he shouts.

“What happened?” I ask, running over to the cubby.

I see Mr. Papers hovering in the back of the cubby like he did when Hans was in the kitchen.

“The little scoundrel bit me!” Thomas says. “Reckon I startled him when I woke him.”

I look over at Mr. Papers and he’s shaking a little. “Mrs. Findlay had her dog here yesterday and it totally scared him. I think he’s just freaked out,” I say.

Thomas walks over to the big sink and sticks his hand under the cold water, sucking air through his teeth from the pain. The water runs pink from his blood.

Mr. Papers looks at me like a child waiting to receive a punishment. “What’s up pal?” He scoots ever so slightly closer to me, but still won’t come out of the cubby. “It’s okay,” I say, “no one is going to hurt you.” He motions his head toward Thomas and then looks at me with pleading eyes.

“Thomas I think he’s afraid you’re going to put him back in the shed. You’re not mad,
right
?” I say, indicating with my voice that he needs to say no.

Thomas wraps a towel around his hand, looks over at Mr. Papers, and says, “Nae, of course not. Fault was all mine.”

I decide to leave Mr. Papers in his cubby until he calms down. Making myself a sandwich, I ask Thomas if he’d made his plane reservations yet. “Aye, it’s all set,” he replies.

Mrs. Findlay walks in and sees the blood and Thomas says, “Oh, just had a wee fight with me pruning shears.” He looks at me and winks. I guess he thinks Mrs. Findlay might want to have Mr. Papers go if she knew he bit Thomas.

“Those trees don’t prune themselves,” I add. I don’t want to see Mr. Papers taken away any more than he does.

A van comes to get the guests and Mom and Dad and I follow in the Land Rover. My hands are freezing no matter what I do to try to warm them, and my stomach feels like it’s filled with fluttering goldfish. At this point I’m just hoping I can get to the train without melting down.

I try to calm myself, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. I keep seeing that thing I saw in the water outside the tower with Mr. Papers, an image of a snake in a circle eating its own tail. Like an annoying song, the picture keeps playing in my head.

We arrive at the ferry dock and drive onto the boat. It’s windy so we decide to stay in the car for the crossing and the choppy waves do nothing to calm my stomach. I turn around and take a last look at the Isle of Huracan out the rear-view window. It sits up like a round mole on the otherwise open sea.

“Why is the captain waving his hands?” Dad asks, straining to see the guy in the little cabin that sits atop the ferry.

Then we see all the guests in the van get out, pointing at the water. I jump out of the car and see a school of dolphins jumping and swimming alongside the ferry.

“Look!” I yell. “Dolphins!”

Mom and Dad hop out, as do the other few people in cars on the ferry. I’m the youngest on the boat so the captain motions for me to come up to the small cabin. From up there I can see all of the dolphins, which have formed a “V” around the boat, like they’re birds and we’re in their flock.

“I didn’t even know there were dolphins in Scotland!” I say to the captain.

“Aye, we’ve our Scottish bottlenose dolphins here. But they’re usually pretty shy. I’ve been helming this ferry for twenty-eight years; never seen anything like this.” The captain points ahead. “Look! Perfect formation, that! Like they’re escorting us in …”

We follow the dolphins as they swim ahead of us all the way to the mainland and then they disappear into the cold, dark water.

The train station is right next to the ferry dock, so the guests and I walk off as the cars follow us. Mom and Dad park and I run over so I can be the first to open the back of the Land Rover and get my suitcase.

When the train pulls in, Mom and Dad board with me to get me settled in a cabin between Dr. Frasse and Dr. Slaton. Before they leave, they both hug me at once and I have to think about algebra so I won’t cry. I don’t want them to sense that I’m too young to travel without them or they might rethink this whole thing.

“Goodbye, baby,” Mom says, holding my face in her hands. “Be good.”

Dad hugs me again and says, “She’s always good.”

Dagger in the heart.

The whistle blows and Mom and Dad rush to get off, saying their last goodbyes to me and the guests. I open the window of my sleeper car and hang out of it. “I love you guys!” I say as the train pulls out of the station.