FIERY ILLUSIONS (Keeper of the Emerald Book 2)

by B. C. Harris

  “I used to think that she didn’t care,” I say, lowering my voice, “but I’m beginning to understand that my mother really does love me. The problem is that she’s trying to keep a secret from me, and everything I continue to do might be bringing me closer to discovering the truth – a truth that she doesn’t want me to know.”

  “You mean the truth about your father?” Michael asks.

  “Yes,” I say, “but I think there’s much more to the secret than just the disappearance of my father. I’m certain that my mother also knows something about the New Messiah. As well, I can’t believe that my mother never told me that my father had a sister. Why wouldn’t she tell me that I had an aunt? Somehow I think all of this is connected, but I can’t quite put it together yet.”

  “How can we help you?” Michael says, his face reflecting his sincere desire to help me.

  Although I might have expected that our terrifying adventure last year in Tamor would have discouraged him from ever wanting to help me again, that doesn’t appear to be the case. A quick glance at Jamie also confirms his willingness to be a part of any plan I have.

  “How do we begin?” Jamie asks.

  “I’ve spent much of the morning thinking about how I could discover the location of my aunt. Unfortunately without a picture, I don’t know how to start my search.”

  “What’s her name?” Michael asks.

  “Kelly Sylvester. At least once upon a time it was Kelly Sylvester. If she’s married, who knows what her name is now?”

  “Then, that’s where we will begin,” Jamie announces as though he will be able to find her.

  “Can’t possibly be that easy,” I say.

  “Sure it is,” Michael states confidently. “The Internet will give us a list of all the Kelly Sylvesters.”

  “And what if that list results in hundreds of names?”

  “Then a little fine tuning will shorten the list,” Jamie adds as though this would be child’s play.

  “Fine tuning?”

  “Yes. With the names of your father, mother and even your grandparents, we can refine our search.”

  I smile in gratitude. Jamie and Michael are the perfect pair to do this research.

  “Is there anything else you can think of that might help us find her?” Michael asks. “You said that you don’t have a picture, but maybe your grandmother gave you some other clue.”

  “No,” I reply. “I have already thought about what my grandmother said to us and I can’t think of anything else that might be helpful.”

  Suddenly the cafeteria jumps as the bell rings to signal the end our lunch period. A girl at a nearby table fails in her attempt to muffle a shriek as though she was caught by surprise in a horror movie. There’s a nervous laughter rippling throughout the large room. Everyone seems to be reluctant to move from their tables although this isn’t necessarily unusual. It’s just that today this lack of enthusiasm is more obvious than normal.

  As the students slowly stand, I say, “There’s one more thing.”

  “What’s that?” Michael asks.

  Before I respond, I notice Drew and Jasmin walking towards us. Jasmin doesn’t look very happy.

  Turning my attention back to Jamie and Michael, I say, “Last week when my mother was talking to Ms. Cathbert regarding my suspension, I noticed a faint British accent in her voice. I’ve never heard this before. When Jamie and I were at Splendid Gardens, I think I also heard evidence of a British accent in my Grammy’s voice. This might have been my mind misinterpreting what I was hearing, but I can’t help but wonder if somewhere in my family’s past they spent some time in England.

  “Hey,” a familiar voice interrupts.

  It’s Drew.

  “You guys look like you’re involved in a serious conversation,” he says. “Anything we can do?”

  A quick glance at Jasmin tells me that she’s not as willing as Drew to be here, although for a moment it feels like we’re back together as a team once again.

  Most of the students who are heading towards the door stop abruptly. Are they waiting to see whether Jasmin and I are going to have an open battle over Drew?

  A tall woman, with short black hair, is standing near the door of our cafeteria.

  I freeze.

  Even though the woman turns away from me before I can see her face, I know it’s the woman who followed Jamie and me on Saturday to Splendid Gardens. This is the woman who I think murdered the worker at Splendid Gardens and attempted to kill my grandmother.

  “That woman,” I manage to get the words out of my mouth just as she vanishes through the door.

  “What woman?” Jamie asks as he looks towards the door.

  “It’s the woman who followed us to Splendid Gardens on Saturday,” the words push out of my mouth as though I’m shouting through a straw.

  “Where?” Michael asks.

  “She was standing over there by the door?”

  “What does she look like?” Michael asks.

  “She’s tall with short black hair,” I say with urgency. I think she was wearing black pants and a black T-shirt.

  “Emily thinks this woman murdered the worker at Splendid Gardens and attempted to kill her grandmother,” Jamie says to Drew and Jasmin.

  Before anything else is said, Drew races towards the door, pushing aside other students like they’re weightless balloons.

  - 16 -

  SECURITY ALARM

  As I left school at the end of my classes, I was shocked to see my mother waiting for me outside. I couldn’t remember the last time she picked me up from school. At first I thought that maybe something horrible had happened, but then I realized she was only trying to protect me. Was she trying to protect me from the mysterious tall woman who seems to be stalking me, or perhaps from someone else?

  As we drove away from the school, I almost told her about the tall woman being in the school cafeteria at lunch, but then I thought better of it. I guessed that she didn’t need to hear anything else to increase her paranoia about my well-being. As well, none of my friends even saw the woman, not even Drew who chased after her. It’s as though she’s a ghost.

  Reaching home, I was met with a shock. My mother had turned our house into a fortress.

  As we entered our house, a new front door greeted me. My mother pointed out that it was solid metal. “There’s no way that anyone can penetrate this door,” was what she said. Who was she referring to? Who did she think was was going to try to storm into our house?

  Not only was the door solid metal, but there were no windows on it, not even a small peephole to look out. If the new door was my mother’s idea of increasing my feeling of security, the reality was that it increased my feeling of paranoia.

  On the inside of the door were two massive deadbolts that would make it next to impossible for anyone to break through the door. As my mother slid the deadbolts into place with a massive thud, I shivered. I felt like I was being locked inside a prison.

  As if the door and the locks weren’t overkill, next my mother pointed out a monitor, about the same size as my laptop screen, that was positioned on the wall above the door. The monitor showed a view outside the door. If anyone was at the door, I could see whoever it was before I opened the door.

  “The screen has a microphone,” my mother said. “You can talk to whoever is outside without having to open the door.”

  It seemed to me that if I wasn’t going to open the door for someone, then I wasn’t likely going to talk to whoever was standing outside either. But I shut up and pretended that I appreciated my mother’s efforts to protect me.

  While the new door with its massive locks and the addition of a video security system might have been enough to increase my safety within the house, my mother quickly pointed out that the back door and a side door leading into the garage had both been replaced. In addition, all the windows now had motion detectors.

  “If anyone tries to enter through a door or window, the police will be here within minutes,”
my mother stated matter-of-factly.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her that based on what happened at Splendid Gardens, a few minutes might be too long.

  Next, my mother opened a closet door to show me a hidden keypad on the inside wall. “The keypad controls our new security system,” she said, her voice begging me to stay safe. “Enter the year of your birthday to turn the system on as you leave the house or off as you enter. Once you’re inside, push the red button to rearm the system. This will keep part of the system active to protect you while you’re in the house.”

  Before I could make it to my bedroom to deposit my backpack, I found myself being led to the basement. There was another metal door at the top of the stairs leading to the basement, similar to the one at the entrance of our house. This door has two massive locks on it similar to the front door of our house.

  My mother said, “The basement will be your safe room in the event of someone breaking into our house.”

  Safe room? She was beginning to sound like a CIA agent training me for active duty. Why did we need a safe room in our house?

  As she led me downstairs, I couldn’t believe what I found next.

  There was a new desk set up near one of my bookshelves. On the desk was a new computer system along with several smaller monitors mounted on the wall behind the main computer monitor. The smaller monitors showed various rooms within the house as well as several different outside views. I would be able to sit at this desk and instantly see everything that was occurring both inside and outside the house.

  “The security system and this computer have a backup power source so they will work even if someone were to cut our power line. It’s critical that you always carry your cell phone with you anywhere in the house in the event you need to reach me or talk to the police.”

  Creepy. And getting creepier was all that I could think.

  Although we only had two windows in our basement, my mother pointed out that they both now had heavy bars on them.

  My own personal safe room. Just what every teenager wants.

  “Any questions?” my mother asked before she announced that she needed to return back to work. After all, she had missed most of the day to be home while the new doors and security system were being installed. Did she ever stop to think that what I really needed was her presence, and not a security system?

  “No,” I muttered.

  “One final thing,” my mother said as she walked up the stairs to leave the house, “I can monitor the security cameras on my cell phone or laptop.”

  Big brother is watching me, I thought.

  “Although I won’t do this unless you call me to tell me there is a problem. I will respect your privacy.”

  Minutes later, my mother was gone.

  After changing my clothes and grabbing a snack, I did a brief tour of the house, checking out the new doors and security system.

  Once I was convinced there were no other surprises I descended the stairs into my safe room.

  Now I’m sitting at my new desk. I look briefly at the bank of monitors in front of me. I feel like a security guard. While the absence of anything happening on any of the screens in front of me should be comforting, it has increased my anxiety. I don’t want to see what’s happening in every room of my house, or see what’s happening outside my house.

  Suddenly, there’s a movement on one of the monitors. I almost fall off my chair. My heart leaps into my mouth.

  The doorbell rings.

  Looking at one of the monitors I see what appears to be a teenager wearing an obvious black wig and dark sunglasses. A horrible disguise, I think.

  It’s Michael. I laugh.

  In less than a minute, I reach the door, slide open one heavy brass lock and then twist the nob for the other solid deadbolt.

  “Michael, why are you dressed like that?” I say as I open the door.

  “Shh…” he replies, handing me a folded newspaper as though he’s on a covert spy mission.

  Before we exchange any further words, he steps off the porch and rides away on his bicycle.

  I glance up and down the street. I don’t see anything unusual.

  As I lock the heavy door behind me, a piercing siren blasts throughout the house. Someone has broken into the house! I panic. The deafening siren makes it impossible to think. Where should I go? What should I do?

  I feel my cell phone vibrating in my pocket.

  It’s my mother.

  “Hello,” I say. “Mom, is that you? Mom, if it’s you I can’t hear you.”

  “Shut the alarm off,” my mother shouts through my phone.

  “What do you mean?” I shout back, growing more confused.

  “Emily, you need to shut off the alarm.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “Enter the numbers of your birthday,” my mother says.

  Stepping into the closet, I enter the year I was born on the keypad.

  The siren stops.

  “Emily, are you okay?” I hear my mother frantically asking.

  “Yes,” I say as I nervously exit the closet.

  “Did you see anyone on your monitors before the alarm went off,” she asks, the distress obvious in her voice.

  “Yes,” I reply. “Michael was at the door. He gave me something and left. As soon as I closed the door, the siren started screaming.”

  “Emily, before you open any outside doors, you have to disarm the alarm system.”

  “Oh,” I say, feeling stupid. Did my mother explain this to me before? I think she might have told me about this.

  “Sorry mom,” I say. “Now I understand what I need to do.”

  “I’ll notify the alarm company that this was a false alarm,” my mother says.

  - 17 -

  S O S

  Back downstairs at the control center of my safe room, I open the newspaper that Michael gave me. At first there doesn’t appear to be anything unusual about it, but then a piece of paper drops unexpectedly from it.

  It’s a single white page with a few words scrawled on it. Having heard teachers complain about Michael’s handwriting for several years I know this is something he has written.

  At the top of the page are the letters S O S. I realize that this is the international distress code for help. Does Michael need my help?

  After S O S is what appears to be the URL for a website. I read the letters to myself: http://www.societyofspies.com.

  Following this web address is the single word colossus.

  What is Michael trying to tell me?

  I type the web address.

  A futuristic looking page that reminds me of a picture of a faraway galaxy from a NASA telescope greets me. There are no words on the page although there’s a small black box blinking in the middle of the page.

  I guess that I need to enter a password in the box. Looking once again at the sheet of paper from Michael, I decide that the letters S O S would be my best choice.

  I type S O S into the box and hit ENTER on my keyboard, but nothing happens. Next I type SOS without any spaces between the letters. Once again nothing happens.

  The only other clue that might help me is the word colossus scrawled at the bottom of the piece of paper. I type colossus and hit enter.

  Instantly I’m taken to another page view. At the top of the page are the letters S O S. This time underneath the letters in a much smaller font are the words Society of Spies. Society of Spies, I say to myself. Is the tall woman a member of the Society of Spies?

  I read on.

  Society of Spies is a covert network of spies whose purpose is to maintain peace and help to protect the environment of our planet. The five original founders of S O S devote their lives to undertaking missions to serve the goals of this secret society.

  Five original founders? Do I know who these people are?

  The purpose of this chat room is to provide a secure means to communicate with each other to achieve our goals.

  As I ponder what I’m reading, there’s
a new entry on the page that is flashing.

  WISDOM: Welcome Glow.

  Wisdom? Glow? “Who are you?” I say.

  Confused, I look at the piece of paper that Michael gave to me to see if there are any more clues on it to help me understand what is happening.

  Not finding anything, I crumple the paper in my hands. The moment I do this, I notice for the first time that there’s writing on the back of the page.

  Emily – Glow

  Jamie – Wisdom

  Michael – Comic Man

  Drew – Hunk

  Jasmin – Drama

  I notice that Jamie is WISDOM. I’m GLOW. Who in the world named me GLOW?

  I begin to type. Immediately, I notice the word GLOW precedes what I’m typing.

  GLOW: Is that you Jamie?

  There’s a slight pause as I wait for a response. I glance at the bank of small monitors that sit in a row on the wall in front of me. There’s no movement either inside or outside my house.

  WISDOM: Yes, it’s me. Welcome to S O S.

  Since arriving home today, I feel like I’m now working for the CIA. What’s going on?

  I begin to type.

  GLOW: What is this all about? What is S O S? Who set up this chat room? Why are we doing this?

  Before I receive an answer, two more messages appear on my screen. Both of them are flashing.

  HUNK has now joined our chat.

  DRAMA has now joined our chat.

  WISDOM: Welcome Hunk and Drama. S O S was invented by Comic Man and me. The purpose of this chat room is to provide a secure form of communicating with each other.

  I reflect on what Jamie said. More than anything else I feel a sense of relief knowing that I have a new way to connect with my friends. It feels good to have Drew and Jasmin as part of the group as well.

  DRAMA: Can I change my name?

  I laugh.

  HUNK: I’ve always wanted to be a spy. This is really cool.

  A new message flashes at the end of Drew’s post.

  COMIC MAN has now joined our group.

  Although I see a link between the code names for each of my friends, I’m baffled by the code name I’ve been given.