The Daykeeper's Grimoire (32 page)

Finally I feel air moving; it’s subtle at first but all my senses are on hyperdrive. Nothing has ever felt so good. About twenty feet later, a sliver of grey light becomes visible. As I get closer I see a small hole in the roof of the cave.

I pull myself out of the hole and Bolon is standing there. Throwing all my weight at him, he says nothing, just puts his arm around me and holds me up as I heave and sob.

Both of us stiffen when we hear the echo of barking dogs.

Bolon puts a finger to his lips and takes my hand. We run around the mound of rocks that I just crawled out of and I see an enormous, strange-looking metal thing—it’s almost like a submarine, without propellers. Three retractable legs hold it about eight feet off the ground.

We climb up a skinny ladder and board through a hatch at the bottom. When I’m inside and Bolon is on the last rung, I finally see the dogs. Three of them are looking up into the hatch, jumping, barking, and snarling.

Once Bolon is all the way in, he pushes a button and the ladder silently retracts. Then he closes the submarine-like hatch and it becomes freakishly quiet. We’re in a small metal room with nothing but the hatch and one other door. Bolon goes to the door and says something, then the door slides open and I see a small staircase that we climb.

The staircase opens into the body of this plane, or helicopter, or whatever it is. Two men sit at the control panel in front of the only windows in the entire craft. The shorter one turns to me and says, “Please, sit and put your strap on. We are in quite a hurry.”

Bolon shows me to a seat and helps me buckle up, then sits next to me. I feel a strange roller-coaster sensation in my stomach but I don’t feel any movement or shaking and all I hear is a whirring noise. “When can we take off?” I whisper, anxious to get off this island.

“We already have,” Bolon replies. “We’re probably a thousand feet up by now.”

“What is this thing?”

“It’s called a Vim¯ana.”

“Never heard of it. Is it new?”

Bolon laughs. “No, it’s actually very, very old. Designed thousands of years ago.”

“Right, this is thousands of years old—”

“No, the
plans
are thousands of years old. The oldest surviving scripture in the world, the Indian Vedas, actually describe how to build these.”

“Then why aren’t they used all over?”

Bolon shrugs. “No one has ever taken them seriously. Except for Hitler’s program, of course …”

I don’t want to get deeper into Bolon’s conspiracy world. “Okay, whatever, as long as it gets me home. The bigger deal is, I almost died back there!” Now that I’m relatively safe I feel anger welling up inside me.

“But you accomplished your goal.”

“That was so not worth it—I gave some lame talk over the phone for a few minutes and now people are coming after me with
helicopters
and
dogs
?”

“You didn’t hear the results? You even affected Princeton’s sensitive PEAR equipment.”

“I heard the results; I’m just saying that those results were not worth me risking my life!”

Now the sensation in my stomach changes and seems as if we are moving sideways instead of up. Still I hear nothing but a whirring and there’s no shaking or tipping of any kind.

“I am sorry you feel this way. But understand, I did not choose your path,
you
did. This is what you were meant to do, I am only here to help.”

“Well, I want a different path,” I say as I cross my arms like a child.

“Let me get you some calming tea.” Bolon unbuckles his seat belt, walks over to a small galley kitchen, and returns with a glass of lukewarm tea. I’m so thirsty from crawling through the caves that I gulp down the bitter liquid as fast as I can. Then Bolon shows me how to recline my seat and spreads a blanket over me.

“What will happen to Alex?” I ask. “Will they try to hurt him?”

“He’ll be fine,” he replies, as he puts a pillow behind my head. “We dropped someone on Easter Island to escort him home.”

My eyes start to droop and I feel that subtle inner gear-shifting in my brain, like after taking allergy medicine. I know I’m about to drift off and I don’t fight it.

Later I awaken to my own voice screaming, “Mom!” My whole body is shaking like an old person. Bolon puts his hand on my shoulder, which stops the shaking. “She’s fine. Your parents are fine,” he says. “They’re being watched right now.”

I sit up and find my whole body is sore; it feels like I’ve been in a car crash.

“Do cell phones work in this thing?” I ask.

“Who do you want to call?”

“Barend Schlacter.”

“Let’s talk this through, Caity.”

“I don’t want to talk it through,” I say.

I don’t even need to dig out my sketchbook to find the number; the image of his luggage tag is etched in my brain. His phone rings seven times and then a recorded message plays in German. I can’t understand a word, but when I hear the beep I know it’s time.

“Barend Schlacter, this is your
freund
Caity. I’ve written a letter detailing all that I know about you and the
Fraternitas Regni Occulti
. I also have a binder of information that links the
Fraternitas
to all sorts of atrocities. All of this is at a safe and secure site. If anything happens to my parents or to me, the people holding this information will go to the media and the police and you will go
down
.” Before I hang up I add, “How’s that for odd and weak?”

I’ve never seen Bolon look so worried. “Caity, that is not how we prefer to handle things,” he says.

“Can we please change the subject? It’s done, and I feel a lot better.”

Bolon looks down at his hands, making me feel guilty, as if I have done something that will get him in trouble. I see the sky lighten out the front windows. “Where are we going?” I ask.

“Scotland. We’ll put you on a commuter flight that comes in at about the same time as the flight you are supposed to be on from San Francisco.”

It’s mind-blowing to think of keeping up this charade. Would my parents even believe it if I told them? Would they ever let me out of their sight again? Could I go to jail for any of this?

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Caity,” Bolon says.

“I’d like a little privacy with my thoughts, please,” I snip. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Bolon points to a small door behind us. I take my backpack, which has a change of clothes in it. When I see myself in the mirror I can’t help but laugh. I’m so dirty that I look like a soldier with a cammo-painted face.

There are real towels in the bathroom and I have to use up all of them to get presentable. I throw the clothes I am wearing away because they are beyond repair; the knees of my jeans are black and the sleeves of my shirt are frayed from crawling through the cave.

I don’t even realize we’ve been descending until I feel a slight thud on the floor.

When I come out of the bathroom, Bolon is standing right there waiting for me. “I’ve been in touch with Easter Island, and Alex is safely on his flight home,” he says. “Donald was on pain medication and could not be woken. We’ve arranged for his ticket to be extended.”

I squeeze Bolon’s hands and thank him. This information relieves me even more than I thought it would.

“We must go now. Our car is waiting.”

Once outside, I see that we’ve landed in a desolate little valley. When we get a few feet away from the Vim¯ana, I turn around to get a good look in the daylight. Copper colored and shaped like a cigar, it’s definitely not like any aircraft I’ve ever seen. “Do people think this is a UFO?” I ask.

“Most of the time,” Bolon replies. “That is why we try to use it only for emergencies when great speed is necessary.”

“Well, thanks for coming to get me,” I say. “I’m sorry if I was rude.”

We drive over a big hill and see a small town in the distance. Bolon points to the airstrip to one side of the town. “That’s where you’ll fly out of,” he says.

As we make our way down, Bolon tells me how proud he and The Council are of my work. I try to take it in but now that a day has passed it doesn’t register that it was me out there talking. It seems like some hazy dream.

When Bolon drops me off at the airport and gives me a hug, I want to stay mad at him but for some reason it’s hard. Maybe I’m having that reaction where people start to love their captors.

“I’ll be in touch with further instructions,” Bolon says.

Is he insane? There will be no further instructions! I am
out
.

I shake my head, take his worn, soft hand in mine, and say, “Goodbye Bolon, take care of yourself,” like this is the last time we will see each other. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know this is not true; the look on his face tells me he knows this, too.

The short flight on the small plane seems rickety and terrifying after the smooth ride on the Vim¯ana. When we land in Edinburgh and I’m able to turn my phone back on I see a new text message from a strange number. Nervously, I open it, not sure what I’ll find. It says, SAFE IN SF, HM SOON. DON’T RTURN TXT, USING STRNGRS PHONE. AC

I don’t realize I say, “Oh, thank God!” out loud until I see the person next to me try to read the text.

When the plane door opens I rush out and try to get through security as quickly as possible. I run to my parents and we all hug for a long time.

“Welcome home, kiddo.” Dad says.

I don’t know if Breidablik is my home, but right now I don’t care. At least we’re all safe.

“Let’s head down to pick up your luggage,” Mom says.

The truth is, my rolly suitcase is back in Easter Island, along with Dad’s satellite phone. I couldn’t take it with me when I had to evacuate. “Oh … you know what? I didn’t feel like lugging all that stuff back, so I left it with Justine. I just brought my laptop with me.”

“Smart girl,” Mom says, kissing my forehead.

They suggest we stay over in Edinburgh and do some sightseeing, but I tell them I’m anxious to get back to the castle and sleep in my own bed. We make it to the station just in time to catch the early evening train.

After a good meal in the dining car, we go to our connected sleeping cabins where the couches have already been made into beds. I slip into a T-shirt of Dad’s, triple-check that both our outer doors are locked, and use my backpack to prop open the door that connects our cabins. Then I drift peacefully off to sleep watching my parents read by the dim light above their bed.

In the morning we disembark the train and wait in the Land Rover for the first ferry to arrive; a few minutes later we see it chugging toward us. It’s chilly on the water, so my parents stay in the car. I get out and stand at the front of the boat with the wind blowing my dirty curls into dreadlocks. As the Isle of Huracan comes into view I cannot help but yell, “The larger the island of knowledge, the longer the shoreline of wonder!”
But my voice is no match for the sea, and the wind and the waves steal the sound of the words right out of my mouth.

The early morning sun glowing pink on the horizon makes for a beautiful sight. Taking a deep breath of the misty morning sea air, I try to box up the comfort I feel at this moment, safely back together with my parents. Like a squirrel burying a nut for the winter, I store this feeling deep inside—I sense that I will need that comfort not so very long from now. Things are expected of me. I have only just begun.

Then it hits me: my Discovery Fantasy has come true.
I have been discovered
.

Not by some talent agent or art critic, but by the universe. I gasp at the enormity of this thought, and the saying
Be Careful What You Wish For
comes immediately to mind. I finally accept the full weight of it: this is my path. And my future lies in a state of pure potential.

I touch a cut on my wrist from the lava cave, already working hard to close itself up. We are wondrous beings, aren’t we?

When we arrive at the castle, I go straight to the kitchen and give Mrs. Findlay a big hug. Then Mr. Papers hops up and I squeeze him probably harder than I should squeeze a 65-year-old monkey. He takes my earlobe in his fingers and rubs it a little. I make a promise to never leave him again.

I want to go straight to my room and see if I have email from Amisi and Chantrea and check what the latest news is on the event, but Mrs. Findlay motions to the table, laid out with sticky buns and eggs and thick-cut bacon, and says, “Eat, Mac Firelands, eat!” Mr. Papers scoots up right beside me on the bench and Mrs. Findlay doesn’t even get mad.

“We missed you, little one,” Mrs. Findlay says.

“I missed you guys, too,” I say. “I mean, it was so great to hang out with Justine and all, but I’m
really
happy to be back.”

“Glad to hear it,” Dad says as he pats my hand.

“So where are Tenzo and Uncle Li?” I ask.

“Oh, they were both on the train with us to Edinburgh,” Mom answers. “We parted ways at the airport.”

I think I must have misheard. “Wait, you mean Tenzo is gone, not Uncle Li?”

“Yes, Li is gone; he had some sort of emergency and had to leave,” Dad says.

I can’t hide the fact that I’m stunned by this news.

“I think he left a note in your room,” Dad adds.

“But where did he go?” I ask, my voice cracking.

“I’m not sure,” Mom says, looking over at Dad. “Angus, did he tell you?”

Dad shakes his head. “No, he just said an international client of his had an issue and needed him right away.”

I finish breakfast quickly so I can go see the note for myself.

Searching my room turns up nothing but Tenzo’s business card with,
“Well done! Call or email anytime, day or night. I am at your service,”
written on the back in small, precise handwriting. I even look under the bed and in the bathroom and all through my desk drawers.

Then Mr. Papers hops over to me holding the key to the chamber.
Of course! Uncle Li would leave his note in the chamber so my parents could not find it.

I put Mr. Papers on my shoulder and slide open the panel. It seems like months since I was last here, so much has happened. As soon as I turn on the light, I see an envelope sitting on the side table. I pick it up and am immediately filled with a feeling of dread.

I sit down on the fainting couch, and pull the letter from the envelope.

Dear Caity,

I suppose you are wondering why I left, and why I have taken the Sanskrit books. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to explain. I know you will feel gravely betrayed, and rightly so. But nothing is as it seems. The Way of Heaven plays no favorites; it is always on the side of the good.

At this time, all I can say is that each one of us has our own path to walk, and however dark it may seem, this is the way of my path. I am deeply sorry that it interferes with yours.

Always, Uncle Li

He’s left and taken the books?

I reread it three times looking for something new each time; it’s just not sinking in that Uncle Li would steal the Sanskrit books from me! What’s this garbage about “the way of heaven plays no favorites”? If he were on the side of the good he’d be
here
now, with the books, helping me figure all this out! Why would a close family friend, a man I have known all my life, someone who promised to help me and protect me, do this?

I lie on the fainting couch for a long time trying to think it all through, going over every step we made together, but nothing leads me to believe he would do this. What could be so important that it could make him betray me? And where would he go? Not back to his home in the states, or I could easily find him. Maybe back to his family in Shanghai? He has clients all over the world. He could be anywhere.

I don’t realize I’m even crying until Mr. Papers’ small hand wipes away a tear. I scratch him behind the ears and say, “Where would he go?”

Immediately, Mr. Papers goes to my desk and gets a piece of origami paper that he folds into the shape of a cave. Inside of it he puts my rabbit-ear key.

“Oh my god, you’re right!
Of course.
He’s gone back to the Dunhuang Caves, the archives where this all began!”

Hearing some commotion outside, I look out and see Thomas raking the gravel in the big circular drive. I’m so relieved to see that he is okay and run downstairs to talk to him.

“You’re okay!” I say as I give him a huge hug.

“Aye,” he says, looking around to make sure we are alone. “Now I am.”

“What happened? How did Donald end up with us?”

“Where is he now, lassie? Did he hurt you at all?”

“No, we were able to keep him down. But what did he do to you?”

He shakes his head. “Somehow Donald found out that I was going with you. After we had that conversation in the morning, I went about my day. Was out in the shed getting my clippers when suddenly I felt a pain in my shoulder. That’s the last thing I remember.”

I gasp. “Did he shoot you?”

“Only with a needle. Drugged me and left me there on the floor of the shed, then locked it. I didn’t come to until the next day.”

Donald got what was coming to him on Easter Island.

“And no one came looking for you?” I ask.

“Nae, ’cause I’d told Mrs. Findlay and your folks that I was going to Edinburgh. No one even noticed I was gone. ’Twas not ’till I had the mind to turn off the fuses that Mrs. Findlay came to the shed.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That I’d had too much whisky and slept there. By the time I got out, Alex was well on his way to meet up with you. I couldn’t have made the train or the flight to Easter Island.”

“I think Donald tipped off the
Fraternitas
to where I was,” I tell him as I take a seat on a little stone bench. My whole body is numb and my brain is buzzing. “But you are not going to believe what else …”

“What?”

“Uncle Li. He betrayed us too,” I say. “He ran off with those old Sanskrit books.”

Thomas shouts, “Egad!” He uses his hands to guide his body down to the bench like a blind person.

“I’m so sorry I got him involved,” I say, putting my face in my hands. “It’s all my fault for being too scared to do this alone, but I
trusted
him! I mean, I’ve known him all my life …”

“Do you think he’s working with Donald?” Thomas asks, looking out in the distance.

“What? I hadn’t thought … Why do you think that?”

“What’s been bothering me is how Donald would know that Li could read ancient Sanskrit, back when he locked you in.”

My head starts to hurt like I’m chewing on tinfoil.

“I should’ve suspected something—he was so cagey about what was in the books.

He brushes the thought away with his hand. “Don’t worry, we’ll sort it out,” he says, without enough confidence to make me believe him.

We sit silently for a few moments, both trying to make the pieces fit. I actually wish I could talk to Bolon right now.

“Any idea where Li would go?” Thomas asks.

“Mr. Papers thinks he’s gone to the Dunhuang Caves,” I reply. “To the archives.”

Thomas tips his head back and looks at the sky. “Of course,” he says, “the archives.”

We both turn toward the castle when we hear the sound of pebbles underfoot. Mom and Dad are walking toward us with a look I’ve never seen before—it’s like a terrifying mix of anger and sadness and horror. They must have found out. I am now their greatest disappointment.

I brace myself for the worst as Mom sits next to me and puts her arm around me. “Caity honey,” she begins.

I swallow hard.

“We just got a call from San Francisco …” She stops and breaks down.

“What?” I ask, now thinking the worst. “Is Justine okay?” I scream.

“It’s not her, Caity. It’s the house,” Dad says, gently setting his hand on my shoulder. “It burned down last night. Honey, it’s … gone.”

All I can manage to say is, “No, no, no, no, no!” before I can no longer talk.

We’re all crying, even Thomas. He must know that the
Fraternitas
was behind it. After a few minutes Dad collects himself. “Mom and I have a lot of calls to make and a trip home to plan,” he says. “Do you want to come back to the office with us?”

“I’ll be in a minute,” I say, forcing myself to breathe steadily.

“We still have each other and that’s all that really matters,” Mom says, bending down to kiss the top of my head before turning to go back. She turns around and adds, “And this place.”

Seeing them walk away, their heads hung, totally oblivious to why this was done, my shock and sadness turns to rage. I look at Thomas. His skin is the color of a heavy rain cloud.

“They can’t take everything from me! We have to find Uncle Li and get what he’s stolen,” I say coldly. “We have to go to the Dunhuang Caves.”

Thomas looks shocked. “Caity, I’m not sure—”

“You know what today is?” I ask, interrupting him.

“One
Manik
,” he replies.

“
Manik
, the daylord of balancing freedom with security.”

“And One, the pulse of force and possibility,” he adds.

“I
know
I have to go to the Dunhuang Caves,” I say.

“Aye,” he says, nodding his head and looking down as if he knows I’ll do it no matter what he says. And I will.

A warm breeze blows by, carrying the scent of saltwater and grass. The loveliness of the smell makes the rage I’m feeling inside even uglier.

Uncle Li is one of them
.