Aimsley walked past Miranda to the bookshelf on the wall in the living room. She removed a large book from the shelf and, kneeling down on the floor, set it down on top of the coffee table. Miranda saw that it was an oversized copy of the Holy Bible, measuring twelve inches by eight, and almost three inches thick. Aimsley opened the book, revealing that it was hollowed out on the inside. She removed from the inside of the book a stack of several carefully folded and bound together sheets of old, yellowed parchment pages. Aimsley untied the strings that bound the pages. Every page was filled with writing from top to bottom, on both sides of each sheet. The writing was black but partially faded, and a few of the sheets looked as if they had been partially burned on the edges, but the writing had not been obscured as far as she could see. There were six pages in all. Aimsley held them in both her hands, looking Miranda straight in the eyes.
"Before I sent the box to you, I did open it and look inside. I didn't realize when I took the box that there was more inside than just the tape. These were in it as well," said Aimsley, handing her the sheets of parchment.
"What are these?" asked Miranda as she looked over the strange text covering the pages. It was unfamiliar to anything that Miranda had ever seen before.
"I have no idea what they are. I had never known that they were in the box until just before I sent it to you. But I can tell you that I am pretty sure some of these symbols match the writing that I saw on the slab behind the Gale house," remarked Aimsley.
"Have you tried to find out what it was? Now that you had something to study up close?" asked Miranda.
"I did some research on it, but there were no exact matches. There were, however, some similar characters that I found that may be related to the origins of this script," said Aimsley.
"What are they?"
"What I found was a form of what some scholars refer to as angelic script."
"Angelic? Like, angel angelic?"
"Yes. Like the written language of the angels of Heaven. I found a website that had samplings of many different languages, both currently used languages and ancient dead ones. There was also a section of languages of unknown or unverified origin. There, I found information on what is called Enochian script. It was derived from the journals of a man in the late 1500's named John Dee. He believed that himself and a medium named Edward Kelley received messages from angels, and these angels gave them the script of the language, but there was no key as to how to decipher the language. It was believed to be the original language, the language by which God spoke when he created the Heavens and the Earth. It was also the language that was given to be used by Adam, but after the fall from grace and the expulsion from the Garden of Eden, the language was lost to him. Adam derived many aspects of the Hebrew language from what he could remember from the first language. Some Biblical scholars, who have actually taken John Dee's claims seriously, have supposedly successfully translated much of the script, but most scholars believe that Dee had made the whole thing up with Kelley. Although what is on these pages doesn't match the Enochian script that came from Dee exactly, it was the closest thing I could find that gave me any clue at all to what it might be," Aimsley told her.
"None of this makes any sense to me," said Miranda. "If the Gales were the followers of some kind of 'angel worship' cult, why would anyone think they were involved in something that might be construed as bad? And why hide? Angels are supposed to be the good guys, the servants of God, right?"
"I guess that depends upon what you read and what you choose to believe," said Aimsley. "I did some more reading on angel lore after I found out what I did about the script. Angels were the enforcers of God. And many of them, according to legends and some religious beliefs, rebelled against God. Those were the fallen legion of angels, led by Lucifer, the first angel."
"Lucifer is another name for the devil, isn't it? I have read a lot of stories, some comic books when I was younger. The name Lucifer was used as well as Satan for the name of the devil before he fell. Could the Gales have been devil worshippers of some kind?" asked Miranda.
"I don't know, Miranda. The devil has been called many names. It was in Dante's 'Divine Comedy' that the archangel Lucifer was associated with being the angel who would become the devil," said Aimsley. "It's hard to imagine that the Gale family had anything to do with devil worship, though. They were good people, to the town as well as to me for all those years. Not the type of people I'd imagine sacrificing goats and bathing in baby’s blood or anything like that. They did have their secrets, though. That is for certain."
Miranda sat quietly in thought for a moment, and then an idea came to her as to how she might get some answers as to where she could find out more about the script written on the parchments given to her by Aimsley.
"Do you have a scanner for your computer?" Miranda asked Aimsley.
"Yes. Why?"
Miranda grabbed her phone and dialed Lydia's number. It rang twice, and Lydia answered.
"Hey! Is everything alright?" asked Lydia.
"Yes. Everything is fine, actually. I have a big favor to ask of you though," said Miranda.
"Anything you need, sweetie. What's up?"
"I am going to send you an e-mail with a couple of pages of scanned text. Do you think you could take it to one of your professors to have them look at it?"
"Okay, what are we talking about? Which professor?" asked Lydia.
"The one that teaches your Modern Perspectives of Ancient Religious Practices class. What is his name again?"
"It's Mr. Carlyle," said Lydia. "What is it that you are sending me?"
"I'm not sure, really. That is what I am hoping you can help me with. I am going to scan and send it to you right now. If you could just take them to Mr. Carlyle and see if he can tell you what they might be, it would help a lot. Is that alright?"
"Of course I will help. Are you going to tell me what all of this is about at some point?" asked Lydia.
"As soon as I know something for sure, I will fill you in. I promise," said Miranda.
"Alright then. I should be seeing him tomorrow in his office. I can see what he says and call you to let you know," said Lydia.
"Thanks, Lyd. They should be in your e-mail in a few minutes. I will talk to you soon," Miranda told her.
"Take care of yourself, Miri. I'll talk to you soon," said Lydia, just before disconnecting the call.
Miranda and Aimsley proceeded to scan in the first two pages of the parchment pages, and sent them off to Lydia's e-mail address.
The two women sat back down in the living room. Aimsley was the first to take notice of how dark it had gotten already. The time had gone by quite rapidly during their conversation. The more serious talk was over for the time being, and from angels and ancient writing the conversation shifted to talking about Miranda's parents and what it was like growing up in Native Springs. It was mostly small talk that they found themselves wrapped up in until around 10 p.m. Aimsley got Miranda a fresh sheet and blankets for the pullout bed, and wished her goodnight. Miranda fell asleep quicker than she thought she would. There was so much going on in her head, she was sure she wouldn't get a bit of sleep. Apparently though, all that had been revealed that day had taken its toll on her.
The final thought that crossed her mind that night before slipping into unconsciousness was the final unanswered question of the day. With all that she had found out today, what now could tomorrow possibly bring?
CHAPTER 7
The smell of eggs and bacon filled the entire main level of the house the next morning. It was an inviting and delicious aroma, and Miranda realized with so little that she had eaten the night before how hungry she really was. She lifted her head to look around for her phone, and found that it had fallen off the pullout bed onto the floor beside it. She picked it up and saw the time was 9:37 a.m. She had slept for almost ten and a half hours. She felt good, and well rested. She rolled out of the bed and pulled on her jeans before walking into the kitchen where Aimsley was cooking br
eakfast.
"Would you like some coffee?" Aimsley asked, holding the pot in one hand and a white mug with an owl painted on the side in the other hand.
"Yes, thank you," Miranda responded as Aimsley poured her the coffee. It was a fresh ground French roast blend, and Miranda found it very satisfying. She sipped it, and set the cup down on the table as Aimsley brought her a plate with eggs over easy, three strips of bacon and white toast.
"I hope you like your eggs over easy, I guess I hoped you liked eggs at all. This is how Suzanne always liked them. I guess I just assumed."
"I do like them over easy, thanks," said Miranda. Aimsley just smiled; they continued to enjoy their breakfast, busily eating with little talking. After they finished, Miranda insisted on helping Aimsley clean up. The two sat back down at the small kitchen table when they had finished, sipping their freshly topped off cups of coffee.
"Would you mind if I take the parchment pages with me?" asked Miranda.
"As far as I am concerned, they were always yours. You are the last of the Gale family, at least around here. I never had the right to take them or anything else, really. I did it for my own selfish reasons," said Aimsley.
"Well, on behalf of the Gales, I forgive you," Miranda said in a mock diplomatic tone, grinning at Aimsley. Aimsley smiled at her when she said this, but the look of concern that Miranda had seen so many times over the last 24 hours had returned to Aimsley's face.
"Aimsley, I don't want you to feel bad about sending me the box. I know you promised my mother that you would try to protect me. But I am no ones to protect anymore. I am a grown woman, and I do have a right to know where I came from and who my family was. I know that I only really just met you yesterday, but I feel like I have known you my entire life in some way. You don't get that feeling from just anyone. I believe that is why my mother chose you over anyone else. Because if I were to need anyone, you would be there for me. I am thankful for that," Miranda told Aimsley, whose eyes glassed up once more as she looked on at Miranda.
"You are wise beyond your years, Miranda. Suzanne would be proud of the intelligent and beautiful young woman you've become," Aimsley told her.
Miranda got her things together and folded up the couch as Aimsley put the sheets away in the laundry room. She took the parchment papers and placed them in a manila file folder that Aimsley had given to her, and tucked them safely in the case with her laptop. Aimsley walked out to her car with her, and the two of them stopped and faced each other for several seconds before Aimsley hugged Miranda tightly. Miranda hugged her back, this time she was not feeling so much like she was hugging a stranger, but a long lost friend or close relative. Aimsley loosened her grip finally and released her.
"I have something for you," Aimsley told her. She reached up her hand and gave Miranda a small crocheted decorative angel in an oval maple frame.
"I made that quite a while back, well before any of these dreams had started, and also before I found the box again. It's the only angel design I've ever done. I thought, given all that we talked about last night, it might be appropriate. Besides, Suzanne always called you her little angel."
Miranda took it and looked at it for a minute, gently running her finger across all of the fine details that Aimsley had hand stitched into the image of the angel with the soft golden halo.
"Thank you. I will be back to see you, you know. Once I get a chance to explain all of this to my parents, and get through the fact that I haven't been entirely honest with them as to what I have been doing the last few days. I just hope they will understand. I'm finding it hard to understand why they never told me I had been adopted," said Miranda.
"Maybe they weren't supposed to, Miranda. I wouldn't be too hard on them about that. You never know what conditions Victoria made for the adoption to happen," said Aimsley.
"I suppose it doesn't really matter. I think I have found what I was supposed to find, anyhow. My mother wanted me to find you. You never know - maybe that was what this was all about," said Miranda.
Aimsley really didn't believe things were all that simple and true, given all that she had known about the Gales. She forced a smile to her face, trying to hide her anxieties from Miranda.
"There is one thing that I haven't asked you about. I think it got lost in the shuffle of everything else that we talked about. My biological father. Do you know who he was? Was it the Gale’s gardener, Gabe?" Miranda asked.
Aimsley gave Miranda a surprised look when Miranda mentioned Gabe's name.
"Suzanne was always so happy and cheerful around Gabe when he worked for the Gales. Anyone who saw them together could tell the fondness they had for each other. She never spoke his name after he left the Gales. She had become pregnant, and Gabe was gone. She was quite often very sad after he left, right up until you were born. But once you came into her life, the sadness went away. You became the love of her life. I always assumed Gabe was your father, but we never spoke of it," Aimsley told her.
Miranda smiled softly.
"Thank you."
There are some people in this world that weren't lucky enough to have one mother that loved them so much. But here was Miranda, having had two mothers that loved her so deeply, although one of them she had never gotten to know in life. Whatever the reasons though, her father, the gardener named Gabe, left in a hurry after Suzanne became pregnant. Was he forced to leave? Or could it have been something far more sinister?
Miranda got into her car and gave a final wave as she drove out of the driveway and away down the road. Aimsley turned and walked back up the sidewalk to her front steps. She sat down on the top step and let her head tilt back with her eyes closed as she breathed in the fresh morning air. The sun was bright that morning, and she felt warm, even sitting in the cool northern air.
It wasn't the sun she really believed that was keeping her warm. It was the feeling that she had finally fulfilled her promise to a friend long gone. She just hoped and prayed she had done the right thing. She didn't want to let Suzanne down once more.
Miranda was well on her way out of town when she saw flashing lights in the distance behind her. She checked her speed, and she was only about six miles an hour over the speed limit. She pulled herself over to the side of the road, only to have the state police car fly past her. The cop had to be going over 80 mph, and before she could pull back onto the road, two more police cars sped by, one that looked like it might have been local town police, and the other had markings that indicated it was a sheriffs department car. Following close behind were an ambulance and an unmarked car with flashing lights, all coming up behind her from the direction of Arlo.
She pulled back onto the road and continued onward. Most of the vehicles that had just past by had gone far out of her sight in their haste. Her phone started to buzz in the seat next to her. She remembered that the night before she had turned the phone to vibrate only, so if it were to ring in the middle of the night or early morning, it would not wake Aimsley. The number on the phone was not one that she recognized, so she let the call go. There had been many calls that she had been getting from solicitors. Somehow she thought that she must have gotten her number on a phone mailing list somewhere, and now her phone and her voicemail inbox had been flooded with offers from several online companies selling everything from dish washing detergent to erectile dysfunction supplements. Miranda thought that someone had played a cruel joke on her and put her on a list, and she was not amused.
She drove on, selecting her 'post punk' playlist from her iPod. Joy Division's "Transmission" was the first song randomly selected. She had her music to keep her company on the long ride home, which she thought was another thing to be thankful for on a bright and beautiful morning.
An hour and a half had passed as she traveled along the seemingly endless northern roads. By that time, she had made it back to US-2 heading east towards St. Ignace. Her phone had started vibrating again. This time though, it was Lydia's face that popped up on the caller ID screen.
"
Hey Lyd," said Miranda, sounding uncharacteristically upbeat to Lydia's sharp ear.
"Hey. That stuff you sent me, Mr. Carlyle found it very interesting, but he couldn't tell me too much about it. He isn't so much an expert in languages as he is a historian and theologian. He did say it looked like it could be an early form of Hebrew, but he couldn't tell for sure," said Lydia.
"Well, thanks anyway," said Miranda, the disappointment evident in her voice.
"Don't sound so sad and sorry just yet. Carlyle has an old friend, a semi-retired professor at Sentry Tech University in Macomb that is a much bigger expert in these types of things than he is. He said the guy is obsessed with ancient religions and languages," said Lydia.
"Really? Did you get his name?" asked Miranda.
"His name's Dr. Alexey Vikhrov. I am going to text you his office info and phone number. You may have to make an appointment to meet with him, being that he isn't at the university all the time these days," said Lydia.
"Vikhrov? Is he Russian?" asked Miranda.
"Mr. Carlyle said he was born in Russia, but has lived here in the United States for almost half of his life. He's in his early sixties now. He defected from Russia in the late seventies…"
Miranda’s phone began to buzz in Lydia's mid-sentence. She saw that it was the same number that called earlier in the day, which she found unusual, being that the calls she had been getting from the solicitors are rarely duplicate numbers. This was a tactic she believed was a way to try and throw people off from dodging the calls, although most of the time if it was a number that Miranda didn't recognize, she would just not answer.
"Lyd, I have a call coming through I think I should take. Tell Mr. Carlyle thank you so much for his help. I will fill you in as soon as I know more."
"Okay Miri...drive safe," said Lydia.
In the Shadows of Fate Page 12
