The Daykeeper's Grimoire (4 page)

Dad shakes his head. “No, I didn’t lose any work. But I did lose the program I wrote to decode your symbols. Fried. Disappeared completely. I don’t know what happened—I must not have compiled and saved it correctly.”

“Bummer!” I say, maybe with too much drama.

“I was so close. Now I have to start over and rewrite the program.”

“Dad, don’t worry about it. It was just a dumb game. I’ll tell you what it said.”

“That’s not the point. The point is that it was a brilliant set of symbols you came up with, and I worked really hard on it and now it’s all gone.”

Thomas walks in and Mrs. Findlay takes him a cup of tea. “Well, you should be proud of Caity,” he says to my parents. “She learned all about fuses today, didn’t you Caity?”

“Um, yeah,” I say, grabbing a piece of shortbread and stuffing it into my mouth.

“Caity has always been obsessed with the fuse box,” Mom says proudly. “We have a vacation house at Lake Tahoe, and ever since she was a little tyke she’s insisted on being the one to turn the fuses on and off when we come and go.”

Thomas looks at me. “That right, lassie? And here I was thinking I taught you something new—”

“Oh you did, Thomas. It’s all very different here in Scotland …” I can feel my face turning red and hot.

“Yes, yes. Of course,” Thomas says, looking at me funny. He absolutely knows I’m lying.

“I’m not feeling well,” I say. “Do you mind if I go upstairs?”

Mom puts her hand on my forehead. “You do seem a bit flushed, Caity. Need anything?”

“Nah, I’ll be okay.” As I leave I say, “Sorry about all your hard work, Dad.”

“Thanks honey,” he replies and Mom says, “I’ll come check on you later.”

Once in my room, I draw all the bed curtains and crash out to escape my new world of lies and deceit.

A knock on the door wakes me. I look at the window and see the sun is setting; I must have slept for hours. “Come on in,” I say, expecting it to be Mom bringing up dinner for me after the fake sickness thing I pulled.

A stranger’s voice says, “Caity? You in here?”

All of a sudden I place it—Alex.

“Um, yeah, just a minute,” I say as I pat down my hair and work the sheet marks off my face. I open the door to see Alex holding a tray with food on it.

“They’re having dinner down there and Gran asked me to bring yours up to you.”

“That’s nice of you, thanks. Want to put it on that table by the two chairs?”

“Aye,” he says as he makes his way to the table.

“Is it really dinner time? I can’t believe I slept that long.”

He raises his eyebrows and says, “They said you’ve been sleeping all afternoon.”

“Why does it matter to them how long I nap?” I snap, instantly regretting using the word “nap” because it makes me sound like a toddler. “Sorry,” I say, “didn’t mean to shoot the messenger.”

Alex waves it off. “I was eavesdropping, and just ’twixt you and me, they all think you’ve a touch of culture shock and that’s why you’re sleeping so much.”

“Really?” I’m as surprised that they’re talking about me as I am that he said “’twixt.”

“Do you?” he asks.

“Do I what?”

“Have culture shock?”

“No!” I say with a laugh. “It’s not like we moved to Mongolia. We all speak the same language and eat the same food. Except for that weird pork-and-beans-in-the-morning thing.”

Alex laughs. “Aye, I didn’t take you for the delicate constitution type.”

Oh, so he thinks I’m not delicate? Of course, how could an Amazon girl be delicate? I hate those cropped jeans!

Alex walks over to the fireplace. “It’s cold. Would you like me to start a fire for you?”

Anything to keep him here longer, I think. “Wow, that would be great,” I say, turning away to wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, checking for any wayward nap drool.

Looking over at my digital camera, I’m tempted to take a picture of him as he builds a kindling teepee around a wad of newspaper. He lights the wood and the smell of smoke rises in the air and mingles with the shepherd’s pie.

Taking a seat in the leather chair by the fire, I say, “So are you over here helping Thomas with something?”

“Aye, he wanted me to take a look at the fuse box.”

“Are you an electrician?”

He smiles. “Nae, but my dad was. I worked by his side for five summers before he died.”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry …” Way to ruin the mood, Caity.

“That’s okay, I like talking about him. ’Twas nice to sit and talk with your father, too.”

“You talked to my dad?” I ask.

“They invited me to stay for dinner.”

“Oh,” I say, terrified that Mom pulled out naked baby pictures of me or something.

He gestures to the fireplace and says, “Well, the fire’s going. Need anything else?”

I try to think of something to need so he will stay longer but I can’t come up with anything. I shrug. “I guess not. Thanks so much for bringing up dinner.”

He bows and makes a sweeping gesture with his arm. “’Twas a pleasure,” he says, as if he’s addressing the Queen. I smile and feel warm from the inside out, like hot chocolate on a frosty day.

Alex leaves and I daintily eat my shepherd’s pie by the fire, pretending that he is sitting in the chair next to me warming his feet by the flames. When I’m finished eating and my Alex haze fades, I remember I have to answer Dr. Middleford’s email. By now deception is second nature, so an answer comes to me right away. I sit down at my computer and open up my mail.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Ancient text

Dear Dr. Middleford,

Thanks for your email! It’s nice to hear from you. I really appreciate you taking a look at that rubbing for me, but I’m afraid I might have wasted your time. I talked to our groundskeeper Thomas about it and he told me the story. Apparently the guy who carved it was crazy. He had caught something as a child that messed up his brain. Anyway, my super-great-grandfather Fergus, the one who built the castle, was really nice and hired him even though he wasn’t all there. He just set him free and let him carve, so these spirals are just random decorations. I’m really sorry that I even got you involved. I know you are very busy and I feel really silly about this. Please give my apology to your friend Dr. Tenzo as well. Have a fun summer!

Sincerely,

Caity

The minute I hit the send button I see that Justine has come online and I IM her:

Caitym: hey! what r u doing?

Justinem: freaking out

Caitym: Y?

Justinem: David von Studley’s mom called my mom and asked her if I would help tutor him in chem.

Caitym: Just like an arranged marriage …

Justinem: ha! but he is hopeless

Caitym: he’s good in English, what’s the prob?

Justinem: doesn’t get science. Tragic. did u email Gramps?

Caitym: oh, yeah. Sorry about all that. I don’t know exactly what’s going on with it, I’ll fill u in when I figure it out. sorry to get your grandfather involved.

Justinem: well, I guess Tenzo found a tie to some lost language or something.

Caitym: No!!! must be a mistake.

Justinem: oh. ok, whatever. howz jcrew?

Caitym: HE BROUGHT DINNER TO MY ROOM TONIGHT!

Justinem: WHAT???????

Caitym: yep, and he made me a fire and everything.

Justinem: romance2 !!!!!!!!!

Caitym: can u imagine any guy from Cruelties doing anything remotely gentlemanly?

Justinem: no! David won’t even help me wash the chem lab beakers! like that’s “woman’s work” or something. u must send pix.

Caitym: will work on covert pix. not sure when I will see him next. talk tomorrow?

Justinem: for me it IS tomorrow. or is it yesterday?

Caitym: I think u r behind-I just lived the day u are waking up to.

Justinem: brain freeze.

Caitym: ha! nitey nite, J.

A tie to a lost language? You’ve got to be kidding me. I wish I had known this before I’d emailed Dr. Middleford; now they’ll know I was making all that up about the insane carver.

————

In the morning I awaken to Mr. Papers thumping on my chest with his tiny fists. God, he’s cute. I scratch his little head, which always makes his legs twitch.

Dad walks in with a cup of hot chocolate. “Mr. Papers was worried about you—he hadn’t seen you since teatime yesterday,” he says.

Mr. Papers hops down, runs over to the carved wall, and tries to move the panel. “Hey, Mr. Papers, careful! That’s an antique!” I say as I run over and pull him away, terrified that Dad might see the panel move.

“The more I know this monkey, the more I think he may answer you back one of these days,” Dad says.

“That would be the ultimate!”

“Then there’d be no difference between us and them. It would be just like having a really small, really ugly friend.”

“He’s not ugly!”

Dad laughs, “Right. He’s as cute as that young man who brought you dinner last night.”

“Okay, maybe not that cute …”

“Nice guy, too. Did you know he’s a bit of a math prodigy? He’s doing some interesting work, has real potential. His old computer is slowing down his progress so I might give him one of mine; I could use an upgrade anyway.”

“That’s nice of you,” I say, wondering how Alex could be that beautiful
and
be smart.

“Well, you should hear about the computer he’s working on. It’s all so … 1992 around here.”

Suddenly I worry that if Alex becomes friendly with Dad, he’ll think of me more as a sister than the potential love of his life. I know I’m getting ahead of myself, but a girl has to plot these things out. “Is Alex going to be
your
Mr. Papers, Dad?” I ask.

Dad looks confused. “What do you mean?”

“Are you adopting him?”

“Heavens no, Caity. I’m just offering him an old thing that I’d be getting rid of anyway.”

I shrug. “Okay. That’s cool.”

“Glad I have your approval,” he says, as if he’s irritated. “Terrible tragedy about his dad. Did you know he was killed right here at the castle?”

“What? He was
killed
?”

“Yeah, apparently looters came by one night, turned off all the power, and went looking for valuables. Hamish hid away and was able to call Alex’s dad, who came right over. He caught them by surprise and they shot him, and fled. They didn’t even end up taking anything.”

“That’s horrible! Murdered right here in this castle?”

Dad nods and says, “So don’t start giving me grief about supporting that poor boy’s math habit.”

“Sorry,” I say, feeling like a schmuck.

He pats my knee. “Get dressed and come down for breakfast.”

When he leaves, I quickly check my email and there’s one from Justine’s grandfather. Nervous about whether or not he believed my story, I just stare at it in my inbox for a minute before I open it.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE: RE: Ancient text

Dear Caitrina, Thank you for your email. I completely understand how one can get overly excited with a new discovery. I sent your email explanation on to Dr. Tenzo, the professor who thought he recognized the symbols. After examining the facsimile of the rubbing for some time, he said that this was not actually ancient Drocane script as he had thought. I beg you though, don’t be discouraged by this, my budding etymologist!

Best,

Stephen Middleford

I’m so relieved that he and this Tenzo guy believed me! It’s nice to have them off my case. Now I can concentrate on how I’m going to get those other spirals decoded. There’s really no other way: I have to have Dad rewrite his program and decode another set. Once that happens, I can get a copy of the new program and decode the rest myself. I can’t believe I didn’t just copy the program before I deleted it—clearly I’m not cut out for espionage.

I trace another one of the rubbings exactly as I had done with the first one that I gave them. I roll it up and put it in the pocket of my “I
SF” sweatshirt, then run down to the kitchen. Fortunately my parents are still there.

When I walk in, Mom gets up and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Feeling better?”

“Totally. Must have been overtired or something,” I say. Mrs. Findlay brings over a large Scottish breakfast, which means the eggs are barely cooked, there’s lots of greasy sausage, and there’s a big pile of pork and beans sitting unapologetically next to a broiled tomato.

I wish I’d said, “Just granola today, please,” right when I’d walked through the door.

“Well, Caity, so much has happened since you pulled your Rip Van Winkle,” Mom says.

“Really? What?”