2006 January Blitz

Paranormal Thriller

updated with picasa slideshow May 2009

The first day of the experiment, Zulieka was concerned about Jewel. The girl was talented, but she hadn’t been tested in remote viewing. If the results went badly, it would affect her future. When Avery chose Zulieka as sender, they knew it would be blessing and curse. The connection between mother and daughter was close, but that could cloud as much as clarify.

Zulieka went for a walk in brilliant morning winter sun. Her long white hair blended with her long white wrap which swung free down to tall white boots. The sidewalk was icy and she stepped carefully. Only soft crunching of hard snow could be heard as she entered the park path. She thought about nothing, simply breathing in cold air and watching the few birds flitting through frozen trees.

Jewel, now living at the school in New Zealand

, was not nervous about the experiment. She had already seen how it went. She would be more successful at remote viewing than Mr. Christian or her mother could imagine. She had seen things happen at a distance for as long as she could remember. And, while only 18, Jewel remembered back a very, very long time. With a smile she got into bed. The summer night breezed a thick fragrance of the roses around the cottage. She closed her eyes and saw her mother walking in the familiar forrest near her home in Wales. As she drifted off to sleep, the last thing she remembered was her mother wearing all black, stark against the white snow.

Avery knew remote viewing tests proved nothing. That Jewel and Zulieka could read each other’s minds, and see each other’s events, proved nothing. Past midnight, Avery sat in his 44^th floor office in Marin, the lights of San Francisco were panoramic in new moon darkness behind him. He held his fingertips together, closed his eyes, and considered Maquique. If the women could see clearly, and interpret what they were seeing accurately – with the wild card of Maquique interfering – then they would prove ready for the work at hand.

Maquique was already in action. Jewel would be sleeping when Zulieka was awake. He would simply mess with Jewel in dreamspace. He was too busy to spend much energy on this unnecessary test. He was on vacation, damn it, and Avery always asked for favors at most inconvenient times.

In the forest, Zulieka was now calm and confident there would be no problems with the test. She would begin that afternoon at the appointed hour. She quickened her pace as she approached a narrow bridge over a stream rushing full. A man and dog came up the path. They smiled in greeting, but the dog raced to Zulieka, bounding onto her. She slipped. She fell. The shock of freezing water took her breath away. The man hurried to help her, apologizing. But her breath had left her. The last thing she remembered was the forest. Ten trees was her last view.

“Mr. Christian, your daughter has called several times, asking for you to please return her call.” Mrs. Francis handed Avery several slips of paper. From the lobby and up the elevator he flipped through the messages. Five from Jewel. He entered his suite with the decision that, no, he would not call. The rules were clear: no outer contact.

On his desk the phone light was blinking, “Yes?”

“Your daughter; line 1.”

He punched the button, “Jewel, we are not to speak during this month. Why are you calling?”

“Dad, I know, but … I didn’t get anything!” Jewel was exasperated. The first day of the experiment and she was failing.

“It doesn’t matter, just write down whatever – even if nothing at all. We will review in February.”

“But … something is wrong. I mean, with mom. And this has never happened before.” Jewel was distressed.

“I’m sure she’s fine. You’re just nervous, under the conditions.”

“No. I’m not nervous! I saw mom in the forest before I went to sleep. But then … this morning at 7:00 … I went to receive and nothing!” Jewel didn’t mention the feeling of drowning.

“Jewel. It doesn’t matter. The test has … it’s own constraints. We must hold to them or it will be invalid. There can be no outer contact between us.”

“I know … but this is weird.” She had seen only darkness and bright shards of light.

“I understand. Just do your best. Write down whatever you are feeling then. The board will review it at the end. I must go.”

“Ok. I’m sorry.” Jewel deferred.

“No need to be sorry. Just let the experiment run its course. You have all month ahead of you, don’t let the first day throw you off. And, do not call again.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to you next month. Goodbye.” Jewel felt the familiar disappointment of speaking to her busy father.

“Very good. Goodbye.”

Avery punched a button, “Get me Maquique.”

“Yes sir, right away.”

A few minutes later a single ring alerted Avery.

“Maquique, what the hell are you doing?” Avery used that condescending tone that Maquique remembered.

“I’m doing what you asked me to.” Maquique was looking over the night sky of his island getaway, a glass of red wine and cigarette in his hand. He was nursing his new years eve hangover with the hair of the dog that bit him.

“Jewel called me and is noticing something is wrong. Is there trouble?”

“Of course there is something wrong – you asked ME to help.” Maquique was in no mood for explanation. “And look Avery, the rules of this game are for no outer contact – or whatever parameters the review board has come up with this time.”

“No one knows you or I are involved.”

“Isn’t that unrelated to the spirit of the rules, if not the letter?”

“I need to know what you are doing … I don’t want them harmed.”

“Of course not. I would never hurt a fly.”

No, it couldn’t be happening. Not again! What is THIS?

Jewel sat in the lotus position, at 7 am, like normal, her eyes closed, her whole being relaxed and alert. She had done her alignment, she had focused on her mother, and created a channel to receive the image that would be sent. But this was crazy! Again, an image that made no sense at all. It was like yesterday, just shards of dark and light, but this time it was black and white and sinewy, or like coils.

Maybe a snake? An air conditioning duct? Oh God, Jewel thought, this experiment is going to hell fast. She tried again, cleared her mind and tried to ensure she had a link with Zulieka in Wales

. Jewel knew where her mother would be sitting, the room, the house, the likely snow on the ground. She forced herself to focus. To remove all expectations. Her concentration though was unusually hazy, her breathing hurt, she had a bad taste in her mouth. And again, she got only this image of spiral dark lines that curved across the page. She sat for a long time in silence, and when she knew she would get nothing more, she finished her meditation with a mantram of insulation.

She pulled out her journal and wondered what to draw. This is NOTHING! At least nothing like she had ever seen from Zulieka before. Well, it is an experiment … so, like father had advised, she’d simply record what she saw. And what she felt. She had a palette of coloured pencils to use, but she roughly grabbed a thick pencil and quickly scribbled swirling lines. There! She thought, THAT’s what I SEE. I’m not at all sure WHAT it is that I’m supposed to make out of this, but THAT is it!

And then she wrote what she felt: “Feel like I have a hangover, and have a bad taste in my mouth, like I’ve been smoking cigarettes.” But Jewel didn’t drink. And Jewel didn’t smoke. Neither did her mother. She crossed out the last line and rewrote: “Felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

Ok, it’s an e-x-p-e-r-i-m-e-n-t. If I have a whole damn month of scribbled circles, whatever. I hope the Board of Review can make some sense out of it though, because I can’t. And if I lose a position in Clarifyers of Consciousness – well then, so be it. I can only do my best. And with that inner dialog, Jewel went about her day, hoping that tomorrow’s exercise would be clearer. On her way out of the cottage, she stopped to feed the fish in the aquarium. And she stared at the water and the shards of blue light, a heavy wave of emotion coming over her.

The peacock cried, and her concentration turned again to her work outside.

The Board of Review was meeting. They were 31 floors below Avery’s suite, and while it obviously wasn’t necessary, they spoke in hushed voices.

Zulieka was unconscious. She hit her head hard when she fell off the bridge into the stream. She would have drowned if the man had not been there. Nor would she have fallen if his dog hadn’t bounded into her. He was able to quickly get her onto the bank. He didn’t try to return her to consciousness. No one else was around so he quickly picked her up and carried her to her home. He knew where she lived.

A nurse was waiting. They took the limp body to a bedroom. The nurse quickly stripped off her clothes and warmed her chilled body. Zulieka appeared stable. The nurse joined the man.

“You stupid fool.” she said matter-of-factly.

“Yes” he agreed, swirling and sipping a thick amber liquid out of an crystal goblet.

“However, it’s easier this way.”

“It won’t be easier if she dies.”

“Well, that’s an opinion. And no we don’t want her to die … at least not before the experiment finishes. But, this may be just the Board needs to finally close that school down.”

“How will it do that?”

“Imagine the effect upon her daughter.” He finished his drink.“Hearing her mother has died could increase her … instability … and give other reasons to question Avery’s … methods?”

The nurse considered. “Well, it was an accident. It’s not like we’re involved with murder.”

“That’s better … now just make sure she doesn’t wake up.”

The nurse turned back to check their patient. The man called out, “Then come down and watch a movie with me. We’re going to be stuck here all month.”

Zulieka nearly regained consciousness several times, but the watchful nurse gave her an injection before Zulieka became lucid. The morphine in her veins now kept her from waking; the concussion had fast subsided. The last Zulieka knew was being in a dark room, someone coming in and out, muffled voices. She was neither able to awaken nor die.

Maquique, drink and cigarette in hand, relaxed on the deck after diving in Grecian waters. He pondered his next phase of testing Jewel. If that girl was going to learn remote viewing, in the way they would soon need, she had to KNOW truth from fiction.

Maquique figured Zulieka could be sending involved scenarios, but nothing that would confuse Jewel. He smiled at his morning’s transmission of a slinky caught in a cobweb. Ha, he laughed. What next? Perhaps he would be the man of her dreams. With … a red bubble head and red stockings. That may surprise the nymph. He’d meet her in an abandoned basement. Likely, she’d have fantasies about tall … bubble headed strangers. Nothing scary, he wouldn’t frighten the girl, but a messy scene with a balloon-headed man. They’d have a good laugh about this in February when it was all over.

Maquique focused on Jewel, and with his skill in penetrating mental barriers, he moved into her mind.

Jewel tossed and turned in bed. The first dream awoke her with a laugh. A red bubble-head man! Funny weird. She wouldn’t write that down dream in her journal though, no reason for the Board to think she was nuts. She went back to sleep, smiling.

In a next dream she felt her mother, ghost-like, hanging to a lamp post, blowing in a wind. Jewel felt fear; Zulieka in danger, caught in a netherworld, neither dead nor alive. She awoke with a startled gasp. She was perspiring, her heart racing.

It was time to get up. She will write that dream in her journal. Jewel explained that a mother in dreams was that part of herself that knows and nurtures. She explained the image reflected her anxiety about the experiment. The previous day’s reception of images hadn’t gone well. Jewel felt uncertain. But there was hope. She was hanging onto something stable, and the top of the lamp post glowed. This was explainable.

Jewel went into meditation to receive the next image Zulieka would send at 7:00.

Maquique, finishing dinner, readied himself to connect with Jewel for her 7:00. He wondered if she laughed about the bubble-headed man in her dreams. He still thought it funny. He’d make notes to recall what he was sending. The Board wouldn’t see these notes, but Avery would want to know what his daughter might be sensing.

Maquique folded his long black legs into the lotus position and made his inner alignment. Immediately, a light startled him. He had just made a connection to Jewel. She was sitting calmly upright in the cottage in New Zealand – but then a cold breeze came through his island home. He shivered, although the night was not cold. He refocussed, wondering into this eerie image. He checked Jewel again, clearly, her mind was calm.

Maquique however began to feel very, very disturbed. Inside Maquique’s head the ghostly vision called to him, and then was blown away. He came out of meditation. What was wrong? He hadn’t even been drinking tonight. He lit a cigarette, and as the smoke filled his lungs he again felt a filmy form, cold, pleading. God this is strange, he thought. And I’m not stranger to strangeness. But what is this?

He knew he still must connect with Jewel and send something. It was day 3 and they had a long way to go. He’d just send something simple, so simple it wouldn’t be anything Zulieka would send. But he didn’t want to scare the girl either. Especially since he felt fear, goosebumps still prickling his arms and legs.

Maquique closed his eyes, saw Jewel, and focused on a blue triangle. He projected it simply and clearly, then wrote in his notebook.

Evening on the 3^rd, Jewel had placed a boquet of roses and peacock feathers from Wagner near her bed. The beautiful bird still cawed loudly each evening before he roosted in the arbour behind her cottage. She got into bed and listened. While most found his cries annoying, she enjoyed his calls. He, afterall, was just doing his part in protecting the property. Nothing better than peacocks for watchdogs. Wagner was simply a little overly sensitive to noise and light though, and so as the lights went off and on as the residents ent to bed, he ensured they knew he was watching.

It was near noon and Maquique again considered Jewel and what he could insert into her dreamspace. He saw her getting ready for bed.

Just hours before, Maquique had woken late from a deathlike sleep. It was full of dreams, none he could remember. The ghostly image and fear he experienced last night still nagged him. While he hadn’t intruded into Zulie’s space before, he thought he should check on her, just to see if she was okay.

He did breathing exercises to clear himself before mentally traveling to Wales. He found the house surrounded by winter’s snow, the forest quiet in a frozen morning.

Maquique entered the home, and saw two people sitting on the sofa. He sensed Zulieka was in the house, in a back room. He mentally moved further into the house and saw a door at the end of a hall. As he moved forward flashes of golden light swirled before him. Electric-like sparks and streaks. He was blocked. He could not move past this to get to Zulieka. He knew it wasn’t Zulie who put up this wall. He knew, without a doubt, Zulieka was in trouble.

He forgot about visiting Jewel’s dreamworld and telephoned Avery. DAMN. It was the middle of the night in San Francisco. No answer at the office of course. A home number? No. He’d call Zulieka directly. He called overseas information. Zulieka Christian? Unlisted.

He wondered if he could awaken Avery remotely, entering into his dream and alert him to his suspicions. But Avery had little talent receiving psychic impression. Jewel then? He could rouse her awake remotely, he was quite sure, but he was uncertain she would get his message, and it was doubtful she would want to call her mother, as the Board had forbidden her outer contact this month. As well, it was late in the day there, and calling this late would not go unnoticed and similary break the rules of this game.

He’d have to wait until Avery woke up. Meanwhile, he could find out more. Who were those people in Zulieka’s home? He went back into his inner space to the home in Wales

again. He needed to know why he was being blocked, and what was wrong with Zulieka, because something was definitely wrong. He felt it in his bones.

Wagner had been cawing all night. Jewel hadn’t had a moment’s rest, nor any dreams. Her eyes were puffy. It was still dark but she got up and took a long cool shower, trying to force herself awake. She dried herself and wrapped the thick white towel around her. She blow dryed her long dark hair. Her eyes still looked terrible, her face blotchy. She took out her makeup and tried to make herself look like one of the living. Her foundation was pale and her skin now looked ghostly, but even. She applied charcoal eye shadow. It didn’t help, she applied more. Then a rub of ruby on her pouty lips.

Jewel picked one of Wagner’s feathers from the boquet of deep red roses. Holding it before her, she surveyed her look in the mirror. She looked like a gothic queen – or one of the undead in a bad horror flick. It was impossible for her to hide her beauty, even she recognized this. She lifted her jaw and noticed the iridescent colours in the feather made her appear even paler by contrast.

It was 7 am, again time to meditate and receive the projected image. She felt like this would be a very very long month.

Thirty-one floors below Avery’s office suite in Marin, a member of the Board hung up the telephone. He was alone. He drew the shades shut, closing out the brilliance outside. The fluorescent light cast austere blue into the empty room.

On a long table against the wall there was a small paper shreader. The Board member stood in front of it and fed through several papers, and then a photo. Zulieka’s image streamed through the whirring blades. Her fragile face turned into strips of waste.

Jewel tossed her notebook down in disgust. Below the date she had simply made a large square that bordered the page. Empty. She had received no image, no feeling, nothing. It was as if her mother didn’t exist, or that she didn’t exist. She couldn’t make anything up, she had only gotten a blank. Maybe there was something wrong with her and she couldn’t perform under what seemed to be a simple exercise?

Certainly not sleeping didn’t help, but maybe she wasn’t cut out to do remote viewing. She had always excelled in the informal exercises she had done before. The connection with her mother had always been clear. But maybe they just made it all up? Maybe she had encouraged her too much, gave her subtle hints. It now seemed that nothing was going on. Maybe she had no talent. Well, if that was what this month-long experiment was about, they’d all know soon enough.

For today, she felt only like going out and plucking the rest of Wagner’s tail feathers.

The board members entered the darkened office. Miss Scarlett sat at the head of the conference table. Its mirrored surface reflecting her long red nail, impatiently clawing and tapping out time. This meeting was to begin at 8:00. Sharp. These characters were as sharp as the bent TransAmerica Pyramid drawn in Herb Caen’s column in the Chronicle.

“Are all of you fuckwitz finally here?” Scarlett tossed her mane of raven-coloured hair at the wall clock. It was 8:03.

The members of the Review Board nodded with limp smiles and limp frowns. Scarlett didn’t allow them to speak.

“It is time to approach things directly – not indirectly, as you have been.” She cast a dark and piercing look at the crew before her. They melted under blazing black eyes.

“I am taking over. Time is wasting and that girl, what’s her name … Jewel? She is as sane as the day you started. Yes, her mother, that non-entity Zulieka, is out of the way. That’s a start. Avery? Ha!” She cast a dire look to where the head of the Christian Empire was sitting, 31 floors above them. “He’s a dupe. However, he was smart enough to bring Maquique into the mix.”

The members looked around in surprise. Scarlett laughed, “You didn’t know? Yes, Avery is going to ensure his daughter gets rigorous training. Maquique is one of the best. But he is aware something is wrong, and he will find out what soon – unless I … give you a hand.” She lifted her arm towards them, offering it as only a queen can do, expecting a kiss. On her fingers glinted three large rings, ruby, sapphire, and emerald, which revealed her powers.

“Consider yourselves finished. And watch a master at work. That girl will be crying for momma by the end of the day.”

Jewel returned to the cottage after a hot toil in the garden. She stripped off her dirty t-shirt and tossed it into the washer on the way to the bathroom. She turned on the tap, checking the temperature in anticipation of a long soak. She pulled out the tie in her long hair and walked to her bedroom.

Her heart dropped to her stomach. Her pelvis. Knees. She dropped before the bouquet at her bedside – the one she had placed just yesterday, red roses and peacock feathers. Black. All the roses were black. She was drawn towards them. Her eyes swirled, unable to focus. A stench of death assaulted her. Dizzy, sickened, her gaze transfixed upon the floral funeral. She sank to the floor, nauseated. Vomit welled up from her belly.

All the heads of all the black roses dropped to the carpet. Jewel could only honour them with her sick.

“There!” Scarlett smiled to herself, sitting alone 10,800 kilometers away from her victim. “That should do. For a start.” Psychokinesis always makes me hungry, she thought. In the cold light of the refrigerator, her ravenous red lips tore into a chicken leg.

Wind slammed the door shut, nearly banging it off its hinges. Maquique jumped. He looked around. It wasn’t windy outside.

He looked around, inside and out. Not even a breeze, no person, not even his cat. Hmmm … then he noticed the rose vine on the patio. Odd, for this time of year, small roses were blooming. Not the whole vine but just a dense patch, in the shape of a heart. Red stark against green.

A creeking … the door that had slammed was now open. Maquique’s blood turned icy. He looked back to the vine. The roses were now black. Petals falling fast to the deck. The leaves too had withered to black and dropped. The vine now showed only bare twigs, revealing a heart cut out.

Dandelions grew in the crack between the patio and fence, cheerful yellow, smiling, as if not knowing the death that had fallen in their midst.

Scarlett wondered if that hint would get Maquique’s attention. It had been so, so long ago since they had met. She wondered if he remembered. The fool, how could he have betrayed her then, the hundreds of years ago when she was naïve and in love, and destined to rule the lands of Aquitaine.

Time had taught her well. Trust no man. Use them, and use them well. Reward them, when they performed. Punish them, at the slightest hint of insubordination. This had been her way to success, and obviously it was working well.

How could he have chosen another, a common woman, when she had offered herself to him so honestly, with so much hope, and power! But that was long ago. Today she had another agenda and Maquique was not the target. Not yet. He was simply in the way. She enjoyed the thought of toying with him in this experiment. What a fun month January will be, the start of a wonderful year!

Scarlett sat in her San Francisco apartment, lounging her long silken legs before her. She bounced her ankle, watching the black stilleto reflect a weak line of white sunlight.

She closed her eyes and concentrated again towards Maquique. She saw him clearly, kneeling down to the lifeless petals, touching them softly with his dark hand. She exhaled, and in front of Maquique the dandelions turned from yellow to cream to white to gray. Dry, lifeless, their seeds the only hint of their future. He held his breath, sweat beading on his crinkling brow.

Maquique picked the once-was flower, the seed beautiful, and so fragile. Not since he was a child, he made a wish, and blew the feathery faith away.

Marshall had come to check on Jewel throughout the evening. She was now cleaned up and resting in bed.

At this time of year most of the students had left the home. Marshall didn’t have family to visit, so he stayed on to do some work to cover next year’s expenses. When Jewel hadn’t come to the main house for dinner, he went to the cottage. The door was open, as was usual enough. He knocked on the frame. There was no answer. He called out. Still nothing. He heard sounds. Sounds that didn’t make him think everything was okay.

He stepped in, and saw the floor of the kitchen flooded. “Jewel?” Alarmed, he entered, calling out again. The hallway was soaking wet. He called again, and heard only the sound of water. The bathroom door was open, the tub overflowing. He turned off the tap. His bare feet squishing in the carpet he went to her bedroom. Jewel was hunched over, retching over a vile stinking mass of black puce and bile.

She was weak, barely lucid. He cleaned her up as best he could and laid her on the bed. Marshall didn’t think she even knew who he was. She only repeated something that sounded like ‘makeek, makeek, help, makeek’.

The few professors who were onsite were in a meeting. They seemed to always be in meetings, locked away in the upper stories, the Surya Suite, or the even more private rooms that led up from it. Marshall knew better than to disturb them, but if they didn’t take a break soon he’d have to. Jewel was very ill. He went back and forth from the cottage to the main house. He carried piles of towels and blankets from the main laundry room back to the cottage, mopping up the f looded floors.

Jewel didn’t have a fever, and while still restless and mumbling that strange word, she appeared to be sleeping. And my god, Marshall thought, she is as beautiful in deathly pale as when vibrant in the sunshine. She was way out of his league, though, so his hopeful fantasies were not encouraged. Yet somehow he figured this was a blessing, that he was here, and that he was the one taking care of her. Although, cleaning up vomit wasn’t something for which he would have prayed. The stench of it had taken him aback. Never had he smelled something so horrific. What on earth could have made her so sick?

After carrying back a heavy load of soaked towels to the laundry, he took the long way back to the cottage, stopping at the fence line. Neither the bulls on one side nor the horses on the other were in sight. There was no sound from the birds. Sullen silence. Marshall looked up the long line of fence, feeling an urge to follow its loneliness to an end.

Wagner cawed. There must be movement in the house. Marshall hurried back to find out who was stirring.

Zulieka lay in a cold coma. Her soul could neither slip away nor rouse her morphine- soaked body. Meanwhile, her keepers made use of the home, draining the wine cellar and ravaging the sheets. Zulieka was oblivious. If she was to help Jewel she needed use of her body, and that was impossible. Someone knew that, that Zulieka could neither be killed nor allowed to wake.

Maquique went down to the beach. The image of roses, dying before his eyes, scarring out a heart, was etched in his mind. Who had sent that to him? Why? He could think of no one with both the power to create such a phenomenon and a reason to do so.

He watched the pearly sand cake his black feet. The air was thick with cool moistness. One woman was nearby. Maquique thought of former lovers. While none of his affairs had ended well, he didn’t think any would feel he had ripped their heart out. More importantly, none of them had power to psychically harm a fly in the same room, let alone create blooming roses or have them wither in an instant.

It must be the experiment Avery had him involved in. Someone knew. He would call him again. That man! Certainly with his prominence he needed to keep privacy. But calls to his cell phone and the office have gone unanswered. His secretary, while pleasant, obviously wasn’t passing along the urgency of repeated calls.

The school’s phones would similarly be a dead end, but that was normal. Denhy Manor was over a hundred years old, set in the middle of pastures. The entire electrical system never never made it into the 20^th Century, let alone the 21^st. Besides, Avery would kill him if he contacted Jewel overtly. The Board would hear about it, they’d call the experiment void. Jewel’s chance of getting the work she wanted, and that they needed, would then delayed at best.

He could try another approach. He’d get a clear message to Jewel in dreamspace or her morning’s session.. But a message about what? He thought Zulieka was in trouble, but was she? Those people in her house could be guests, and Zulie could have set up the protecting field to block psychic intrustion. That was common among Aquarians; Maquique often did so himself. (He certainly would from now on.) That made sense, but something felt wrong. He must check, but how to reach her?

The woman on the beach was at the water’s edge, her white hat bright as the rising sunlight. She looked left. The sight reminded him – Lyra! Zulieka’s twin, while not a friend of his, she’d take his call and check on Zulie. Then he would know. No one would suspect if Lyra contacted her sister. She wasn’t involved in their work, but they were close.

Maquique jogged back to the villa, slowing only when he saw the blackened petals, already rotting beneath the bare twigs.

Avery drove his Jaguar hard. The San Francisco skyline disappeared in his rearview mirror, but Avery didn’t look back. The inquiries by The Board annoyed him to no end. No, he hadn’t talked to Zulieka. Yes, he had talked to Jewel. He said he told her nothing, and that was true. Their questions and suspicions wer e infuriating.

The dark green Jaguar flew along the roads to wine country. His cell phone rang. Damn, again. He shut it off. Fuck the office for one day. His meeting with investors at the Mission Winery was the most he wanted to think about. It should go well, just tidy up details. He flicked on the music and roared along with Beethovan’s Ninth.

Jewel’s eyes shot open as morning light rayed into her room. The clock showed 6:40. She had dreams, but nothing she could recall. She sat up – and gasped, someone was in her room. Marshall was sleeping in a chair in the corner.

He woke. “Sorry … you okay?” he asked, rubbing shaggy brown waves out of his eyes.

“Yes … I think so.” Jewel pulled the sheet up around her, conscious she was in her bra. “What are you …?”

“You, you were sick. I found you, and … was worried, so I slept here.” Marshall stood, feeling like an intruder. “You seemed pretty out of it. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare y ou.”

Jewel looked around. She didn’t remember. There was no sign of the mess. Marshall was eager to relieve them both of embarassment. “OK, you look alright now. I’ll go. If you need anything, just yell, I’ll be next next door … in the dorm.”

“Sure.” Jewel had no idea what was going on. Marshall walked out of the cottage. Jewel got up to go to the toilet. She had a bad taste in her mouth, she must have been sick. Her feet felt the cold damp carpet. She wished she could remember, the dreams, the night before. Why was the carpet wet? What had happened? She’d ask Marshall later.

At least she hadn’t overslept, it was still before 7:00. She had time to make tea before settling into her sixth session of remote viewing. She felt a little out of it, but fine, and was looking forward to the experiment. She had to get on track. Things hadn’t gone well so far, but she had confidence she could receive the images Zulieka would be sending.

Avery and his associates were enjoying a perfect California day at the Mission Winery. Delicious lunch complemented with perfect wines, and everyone agreeing on the details of the project. Hot air balloons and parachuters were sailing over the coastal range, free as the birds. He imagined himself in one of the baskets. Beautiful.

Avery felt free as well. The meeting concluded and all shook hands with goodwill. Back in his Jag, he decided to take the long way home. He could check phone messages on the way.

Avery’s Jaguar flew north on Dry Creek Road up the Napa Valley. The balloonists now gone from the sky. He checked his cell phone. Eight messages. He gotten off light. Hadn’t checked messages since yesterday.

Still on a straight road, he clicked buttons to see that four calls were from the office, and four from Maquique. What the hell does he want? Deciding to call when he was on the other side of the ridge, he was only sorry he had checked the names.

Passing Wall Road he turned up the volume and focused on the task ahead. What could be better? A fine conclusion of another deal, a gorgeous California day, and freedom in his favorite motorized beast. Only one thing better, hitting Trinity Road when the Beethovan’s Ninth kicked in the chorale.

Avery jammed into second to make the tight right at Cavedale Road. Above the hailing cry of the vocals, he couldn’t hear the engine scream. Ode to Joy! He began singing and conducting. Sweeping left, right, dips, hills. On increasing radius turns he just kept the speed up, secure in the Jag’s handling. He applauded the British for this engineering marvel.

As if Avery needed another bonus, there was hardly any traffic. What few cars there were he overtook effortlessly. He waved to a couple as he passed. They waved back, vicariously enjoying his power. A straightaway uphill, a long sweeping downhill left, and he boomed out his barritone with abandon.

Then, damn, an 18 wheeler chugging out from a side road. Avery put on the brakes. He wasn’t slowing. He mercilessly shoved it into second gear, the Jag whined, the backend of the truck grew to monstrous proportions. The road, he remembered clearly in that godawaful slow motion moment, would veer right at over 90 degrees. Passing was stupid. But he wasn’t slowing. The front of his beautiful Jaguar would bite the rolling brick wall ahead of him in an instant. The chorale was climaxing. He pulled left, he could make it around. A red car thrust into view. Avery nudged further left, off the road, onto the far shoulder, gravel and dust flying. Avery held it on the edge of the curve, clear of the truck, the red car passed. But the shoulder disappeared, and so did the Jag. Its dark green scratching scrubby pines with a wail, he was airborn. Silence. Then a thud. The engine died. Beethovan played on. Avery’s eyes misted over, as much from the pain as the excruciating beauty of the music.

The next morning, Scarlett stepped out from her apartment. A sickly yellow pale inked the sky. She snapped open the newspaper to The Chronicle. A headline read:

Media magnate, Avery B. Christian, is in critical condition following a car crash on Trinity Road in Napa County. His condition is serious but stable. Cause of the crash is unknown, although high speed and alcohol are suspected.

The reporter didn’t know there was no brake fluid in the car.

It was tricky, but Jewel thought she got the image right. At first she saw a vine, part dead, part flowering, a lamp box to the side. Then she realized it was a view from her mother’s home, from the roof, looking down on a tree in her courtyard, snow blanketing the bench. She got the word, “Isolation”. Jewel wrote this down. While she didn’t see her mother in her home, she was certain of the word and image. Her confidence improved.

That done, she showered, had breakfast, and went to find Marshall. She needed to know what happened last night. The damp carpet reminded her she had more to learn.

As she stepped out of the cottage, Marshall was coming towards her. He was wearing a faded Stone Temple Pilots T-shirt and baggy jeans cut off at the knees. His knees were b lue.

“What’s up with the blue knees? New fashion?” She mocked him good naturedly.

Marshall looked down, “Oh. Just some painting I’m doing for Madame Bucheress. Guess I kneeled in the paint.” He rubbed at the stain. “You have a phone call.”

He turned with her to walk into the main house. Jewel said, “I’d like to talk to you … about last night.”

“Sure.” Marshall held open the door to the Sapphire Room, and pointed to the phone. “I’ll be in the shed. Painting.”

“Hello?” Jewel picked up the receiver. “Yes, Ms. Francis, this is Jewel. Oh … oh my. Is he okay?” Jewel’s hand went to her throat as she leaned against the wall, listening as her father’s secretary gave her the news of the accident. Out of surgery, stable but critical.

Jewel asked quietly, “Does mother know?” The phone lines had so much static and popping, Ms. Francis asked her to repeat.

Madame Bucheress barged in, her little round body struggling with the large door. “Where is Marshall?!” She barked, ignoring the fact that Jewel was on the phone.

Jewel shook her head, her mouth agape. Ms. Francis asked again more loudly, “Jewel, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you?”

Professor Bucheress persisted, now with hands on hips. “Jewel! You don’t know where he IS?!”

Impossible to ignore the bulging eyes in the fat little face before her, Jewel pointed towards the door where Marshall had exited. Bucheress stomped off in her big shoes, a trail of frills and fringe and fluff.

Jewel asked again, more loudly, “Zulieka … do you know …” The Madame Professor, struggling with the even heavier inner door, cocked her head sharply at this comment. That girl has just broken a rule. The door slammed behind her.

“… has someone told her?” Jewel finished the sentence, then slowly slid down the wall, sitting on the floor next to the phone. After a few moments, she just said thanks, hung up, and stared at the muddy trail on the dark blue carpet left by the Madame Professor.

No one could reach Zulieka. At a time like this.

Lyra’s cell phone rang. “Hello. … Who? Maquique. Oh God, how did you get my number?” She was driving, it was raining, and Maquique was among the last person on earth she cared to speak to. He thought he was handsome and funny – but he was just rude and annoying. Lyra avoided him ever since those unfortunate encounters at Zulie’s years ago.

“What? Zulieka? I don’t know, I haven’t talked to her in a week or more. … Why?” She slowed down, the truck in front of her was spraying up water, obscuring her already limited view of the road.

“I can check … but why don’t you call her?” Lyra’s impatience was as heavy as the rain. Her white fringe edged the rim of her thick glasses and she shook her head to better see.

“Last I spoke with her said she had that experiment with Jewel, so I imagine she’s just being her normal isolated self. I’m driving into London and haven’t time for your spooky suspicions.”

A car overtook her, again spraying up waves of water. “I gotta go. I’ll call you if anything is wrong – which I’m sure isn’t. Have a nice life, Maquique. Goodbye.” Lyra flicked off the phone and slowed further, traffic was building up as she entered the city. The torrential rains would further snarl the flow. She didn’t want to be late, and so concentrated on the gray on gray road. Why Zulie didn’t investigate the same surgery was crazy; she was nearly blind and this procedure was promising.

Well, thought Maquique, that didn’t go well. He hoped Lyra would have gotten over his innocent flirtation by now. She was so touchy. Why couldn't she be more like her twin.

His phone rang before he removed his hand from the receiver. Lyra must be calling back to apologize for being rude. “Yes honey, I forgive you. … Oh! … Ms. Francis? Sorry, I thought you were somebody else.” He made note to focus on who was calling next time. Assumptions could be dangerous.

“Avery? Oh shit!” Maquique listened as Mr. Christian’s secretary gave details of the accident and Avery’s state. After ensuring he knew everything she did, he asked, “How is Zulieka, and Jewel?”

A door slammed shut. Maquique jumped. He looked around. Again, no wind whistling through the open villa. He’d end this conversation quickly. “Ok, thanks for calling. It was the right thing to do … but, better not let The Board know I’m involved with the experiment. Of course … yes, I know you know how to keep a secret. I’ll be in touch once I’ve made plans –call me if his condition changes, or anything else happens I should know about.”

The door was creeking slowly open and shut. “I got to go, Frannie. Talk later. Bye.”

After sitting on the floor for the longest time, Jewel wiped a tear from each eye with her palms. She looked at her hand as if for the first time. She spread her fingers, white skin against blackened background. A creek in the house startled her. She reminded herself to breathe and pushed herself upright.

Jewel walked ghost-like through the several doors to the breezeway. Denhy Manor was as empty as she felt. As she passed the laundry she heard the big washer sloshing its load. A black and white cat ran up to her, rubbing against her legs. “No mice today, Chloe?” she asked as she stepped over the cat and continued towards the shed, the feline following her slow footsteps.

Marshall was kneeling in front of a dresser, making a blue mess of it, the floor, and himself. Jewel stood in the doorway, her sundress backlit to Marshall’s adoring eyes. “Who was that on the phone?” He asked only to mask his awkwardness.

Jewel replied, hearing her words as if they were someone else’s, “Dad’s secretary. He’s been in an accident.”

“Oh, no.” Marshall sighed. “Are you okay? I mean, is he okay?” His heart was straining to h ers.

“No. He’s in critical condition.” Jewel walked into the fume-stinking shed and leaned against a well-worn sawhorse. She pushed her dark hair away from pale skin. She again reminded herself to keep breathing.

Marshall stood and walked towards her. He avoided apologizing about his sticky blue knees. He sat at a polite distance from her on the sawhorse, hoping to console. “So, it’s bad, hmm?”

“Yes.” Jewel inhaled. She looked at Marshall, inconveniently noticing he was handsome, even with thick prussian streaks in his brown hair. She couldn’t help a wan smile spreading her lips. She nearly reached out to touch him. It had been so long since she had been held, by anyone.

Marshall felt her loneliness. Words were lost and unnecessary, yet this moment made him try. “You’re close to him, aren’t you?”

“Actually, no.” Jewel looked up to the cobwebby ceiling high above. “But, he is my father, and you only get one.”

Marshall wondered, as he was adopted and, while never knowing his biological father, he always considered he had two dads. No more awkward words came to either of them. Chloe nosed about, and crinkled the paper under the wet dresser, she turned and rubbed her tail against the paint. Marshall would have shooed her away, but didn’t want to break the mood, somber and thick as it was. He had never been close to Jewel before.

“I … I wanted to ask you about last night.” Jewel mumbled, as if embarassed to not speak more about her father, but her own loneliness and confusion was crushing.

“Come on, I’ll make us tea, and we can talk on the deck.” Marshall stood and offered her his hand. She took it, and her cool palm filled his world with warmth.

Your comments and writerly critique on this work in progress is welcome. Please post to vsk @ vicktorya.com, or to my www.livejournal.com account, vicktorya7

The next sequence of chapters will be posted regularly throughout the month.