Regardless of how much this folder helps you, I must ask you to return it to our vault at the university in Arkham for safe-keeping. The librarians were extremely adamant about this point saying the vault is protected for such a purpose. They became quite animated when our young Jake Kilrain placed the book in the valise to remove it. That whelp, Thurston, nearly made the mistake of coming to blows with Agent Kilrain. Kilrain reported he dodged several feeble punches thrown by Thurston and left the building without having to insinuate his substantial skill in fisticuffs—fortunate for Thurston I say.
Though I put little weight in the matter, please do not let the papers out of your possession as I received missives from Professor Angell -- daily, requesting the return of that dark tome and I have no wish to incur his wrath should they be lost. Apparently not only are they priceless but somehow dangerous though I do not understand how.
We look forward to the return of the books, and your persons, and are greatly interested in hearing your subsequent report.
Best Wishes and Safe Travels,
Bertram Sylvester Quaid”
“Really.” Boots said, sitting the letter on the table and lifting the ancient folder with more interest.
Persi cleared her throat. “It is said that the Arabs and other Semitic peoples saved much of the old knowledge and wisdom when Europeans endured the Dark Ages, especially in the area of medicine and science.”
“Yes,” Boots acknowledged. “I am not discounting that, even though Quaid seems to think it useless.”
“Yes, yes, Quaid is a Harvard man of papers,” Persi said, obviously irritated. “Boots, and I say this with an ear to objectivity, I know you both and I say you are the better man.”
Boots reached over and patted her hand. “If so, it is because of you, my dear.”
Persi smiled wryly and laid her other hand atop his. “This goes without saying of course, but I mean it. Yes, he won the position over you but...” she paused, thinking. “Look at that letter. His mind is not flexible. He has little investigative experience and yet immediately discounts the knowledge in these ancient papers. How can one successfully direct an agency such as ours with such a closed mind?”
Boots smiled and bobbed his head in the slightest of nods.
“And, beloved,” Persi continued, “Would you really rather be stuck behind the desk in a dark office in Boston, or floating over continents and oceans, the next mystery just around the corner.”
Boots squeezed her hand. “This is all true, my dear, however the added income and stability would allow us to settle down with some kind of normalcy. We could live openly as a married couple, start a family.”
Persi flinched when Boots mentioned family, then covered by removing her hand from his to scratch her nose.
“Persi, my love, this is a young unencumbered persons game. We have enjoyed adventures, even ones together, but we must look to the future.”
She patted his hand again. “Yes, dear, but right now we have a mad man to capture and vampires to ... to do something with.” She pointed to the folder. “How appropriate that we shall use one mad man to catch another.”
Boots released the silver hook from the hasp, unwrapped the chain from the folder and opened it. The leather creaked un-naturally given its apparent age. The smell of cinnamon and camphor, that Persi thought not totally disagreeable, floated up from the open folder. Boots wrinkled his nose, smelling a faint scent of mildew and rot.
It was obvious to both that the pages contained in the folder were of the best quality vellum, and odd in that they had the look of material newly purchased from one of the better stationary stores in Boston or New York. The pages were so white they all but glowed. Along with the vellum were sheets of good quality paper, upon which was penned the translation.
“Boots, this does not look old. Do you think those professors swapped out the originals for copies, or even fakes?”
“I don’t know, it does look new I’ll grant you,” Boots said. “but then why put up such a fight?”
“Perhaps just part of a good ruse.”
“Perhaps, but something tells me there is more going on here.” He paused, then pointed to a paragraph indented, with quotes. “Quaid may have been correct about this being drivel. Even with what I consider an open and educated mind, I can make no sense from most of these passages. Look here,” he pointed at an indented section with quotes. “This is some kind of spell, or a chant, and though it appears to be Latin, it makes little sense.”
“Latin, in an Arabian manuscript?” Persi asked.
Boots shrugged and began to read aloud. “Per adonai eloim, metraton on agla mathon, verbum pythonicum, mysterium salamandrae conventus sylvorum ...” He was interrupted by a shudder that went through the building, even tipping over the vase of flowers on their table.
“Earthquake,” Persi yelled and rose from her chair.
Boots grabbed her arm and when she looked at him, he nodded to the room. She saw the other customers sitting at their tables, eating. No one was panicking, or even looking around. A couple near them were looking at her, food halfway to their mouths.
“Excuse me, but you just feel an earthquake?”
They didn’t move.
“Room jiggling, anything like that?” she tried again.
Boots pulled her back to her seat, and then looked at the couple. “Nerves,” he said.
Persi nodded to the man and woman, who had returned their forks to their plates without taking the bite. “Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me. I was recently in a train robbery and have since been living with vampires.”
The couple returned to their meal, though the man scooted his chair over, putting more of his back to their table.
“Ahh,” Boots said, “there’s my girl. Did you once tell me ‘Subtle’ was your middle name?”
She ignored his jibe. “So, no one felt that but us.”
“It appears so,” Boots answered. “I feel it better to discontinue my vocal reading.”
“I heartily agree,” Persi said, nodding. “My Latin is not at a par with yours but the verse was something about the mystery of the – salamander, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, an invocation, I believe,” Boots replied. He reached into his coat and retrieved his wallet. “My love, I suggest we return to the ship where we will have a bit more privacy before reading further.” He looked to the waitress. “Miss, check please.”
Chapter 37 – Boots Confronts Persi about Her Secret
Back at the airfield, they made their way up the stairs of the boarding tower to the open cargo door of the Daedalus. Captain Grimm was waiting for them, as he usually was. Persi knew this was a formality the Captain observed but did not understand his uncanny ability to know when they were arriving.
“Welcome aboard, sir,” he said, nodding at Boots who returned his nod. “And to you, madam,” he said, taking Persi’s hand to steady her as she transitioned from the stairs to the brow of the ship.
“Captain Grimm, please make ready to lift,” Boots said.
“Yes, sir. Mister Morris is still in town but I expect him to return within the hour. Is this soon enough, or should I send Nicholas to look for him?”
“No, an hour or so is fine, especially if it means fresh food for the next part of our journey. Venezuela is it not?”
“Oui, mon patron,” Grim said.
“Your boss, indeed,” Persi said. “You are more like family. The uncle everyone likes but no one allows their children to play with, perhaps?” she said with a grin.
Grimm lifted an eyebrow. “It sounds like my Uncle Laurent. Momma never let me find out what thing he carried in his satchel but it smelled and sometimes moved around.”
“Well, that’s disturbing,” Persi said. “But regardless, we appreciate your respect as long as you know we consider you much more than an employee.”
“Un ami?” Grimm said, smiling.
“A trusted friend,” Persi added.
“As you say, then.” Grimm said
and led her further in to the ship. “I will give the orders to lift in an hour. Mister Parry has finished his maintenance of the ships engines. I’m sure he will discuss it with you later, but suffice it to say, he is plus heureux with the repairs.”
“I am glad he is pleased and we will await his report at dinner,” Boots said, taking Persi’s arm and leading her to the stairs. “We have some reading to do, we will adjourn briefly to our room, then be available in the dining room.”
Grimm nodded and headed for the engine room spaces. In their room, Persi and Boots took a moment to change into more comfortable floating attire, then proceeded to the dining room with the folder. Before, he could open the folder, Persi disappeared and returned several minutes later with a logbook in hand, Boots assumed from the good captain. In this, she made notes as she read.
“Beloved,” Boots said, “Please do not copy anything into your notebook that might be found later and used to destroy the world.”
“Yes, dear,” Persi replied, “I will keep the protection of the world in the forefront of my mind.”
“Good girl,” he said, reaching over and patting her hand.
They had just gotten comfortable, Boots reaching to unfasten the folder when Morris returned to the ship and Captain Grimm gave the order to lift. Persi and Boots left the table to watch as the ship floated up and away from Pensacola. It was one of the small pleasures of floating, watching the civilized world fall away, getting smaller and smaller until the people couldn’t be seen and the largest building was a mere speck.
Back in the dining room, Persi felt her stomach grumble. “Mister Morris,” she asked when Morris walked into the dining room. “What delectable tidbits might you have stored away for a snack?”
“I have just the thing, my lady,” Morris bowed.
“Oh, indeed,” Persi said, returning a curtsey. When she had sat, she looked over at Boots who had begun to strum his metal hand on the table. It was rather loud and made Persi take notice. “Something on your mind, my dear?” she asked.
“Oh, yes, my heart. It comes in the form of a question, which is based on an observation and supported by several years of training and experience.”
“Well then, McDuff, ask away,” she said.
Boots began to speak but was immediately interrupted by Morris, returning with a small bowl of light colored orange and white crackers. Persi took one and, in a most unladylike fashion, popped the whole thing into her mouth. She chewed for a moment then her eyes went wide and she swallowed. “Oh, my, Mister Morris, these are exquisite. Have one,” she said, pushing the bowl to Boots, then pulling it back quickly. “It is very ...”
“Cheesy,” Boots said. “Yes, Cook, very good indeed.”
“Thank you. Very simple really, just baked cheese.”
“Really,” Persi said, “and how ...”
“These are fantastic,” Boots interrupted, “Nicely done. Could you excuse Persi and me for a bit?”
Morris nodded.
When he had gone, Persi stared at Boots, her expression one of annoyance. “You have something to say, my dear? A question wrapped in an enigma, based on mystery or some such thing?”
Boots gathered the papers together, placed them back in the folder and wrapped and fastened the silver chain around the whole. He looked at Persi and smiled. Reaching over to her, he took her hand, which she allowed if not rather stiffly. “Yes, well,” he began, “I have noticed several things recently pertaining to you and your health.”
Persi’s stomach spasmed suddenly.
“Upset stomach, but usually only in the mornings, otherwise increased appetite throughout the day, as well as a skin sensitivity in more personal areas.”
Persi blushed and looked at the bowl of cheese crisps, then she pushed them away as if the crisps had betrayed her.
“I believe you remember that I have had medical training, as well as some field experience. During the war, while garrisoned in town, I treated several women, with similar symptoms. I believe we both know the answer to my first question. I know you are conflicted about the job, the marriage, and now this, but we must discuss it and come up with a suitable solution. One that ...” he squeezed Persi’s hand, “all three of us can live with. Yes?”
Persi moved her other hand over his, her eyes filling. “Yes, my love. I wanted to tell you but as you said, there is much to consider. Not to mention that no one knows of our marriage, so a child entering the situation will most certainly cause society to talk, at least in Boston.”
“Excuse me,” Boots said, responding to the jab. “Women do not bear children out of wedlock in Kansas?”
She smiled, “Oh, certainly but in a state where women give birth while plowing the field, wrap the baby against their breast and finish the row, the humiliation of having no husband is short lived.”
“But, what of Kansas City society?” Boots deciding to double down.
“My dear, Kansas City Society is comprised of three old Bostonian dowagers, and a handful of Kansas City spinsters. Honestly, no one cares. The city is too robust to care of about trivial matters.”
“Hmm, I’m not sure ...”
Persi frowned. “Boots, my soul, my life, I am suggesting you change course. I see rocky crags ahead and this heading you have chosen will steer you straight for them.”
Boots opened his mouth to speak but closed it and smiled, giving her hand another squeeze. “You are wiser than I, my dear. So let us steer our course to an open shipping lane.”
Persi laughed, “Nicely done.”
Boots nodded. “So, perhaps you are about eight weeks?”
She smiled, “My, you are good. That is about my estimation.”
“Well, I don’t believe you have much to worry about for at least the first three months. During the second trimester however, we will need to be in a place where you will have a normal level of stress, and the last three months I believe you will be found in residence most often.”
“So, I can finish this investigation?” she asked.
He nodded. “Only because I don’t believe I could make you do otherwise, however I am begging that before you jump into a fray, remember you are carrying our child.”
“Well, uhh ...” Persi removed her bottom hand place both hers on his. “Apparently, Aiyana can tell about such things and has told me we will need a slightly bigger nest than one would normally.”
“Twins? Could she be wrong?”
“Well of course she could, but didn’t you tell me you have an aunt who is a twin?”
“Yes, Aunt Sandy on my mother’s side. And there is Aunt Bertha on father’s side, though her twin died at a young age.”
“See, and my father’s younger sister gave birth to twins last year, so it seems to run in both sides.”
Boots sat back in his chair. “Twins,” he smiled. “Thank you.”
Persi returned his smile. “Ah, well, it was the least I could do. I mean, you rescued me from that cesspool of high society that is Kansas City.”
Boots shook his head.
“My dear, lets adjourn to our room. I need a nap, though I think we shall take these delicious cheese snacks with us.”
“And by nap you mean ...” he asked, eyebrow raised.
She smiled. “I mean sleep, however, AFTER the nap I may be more ... energetic.”
“Then by all means,” he said sweeping his arm toward the door.
Chapter 38 – Nightwalkers React Badly
Persi was awake and, ‘energetic,’ two hours later. Leaving Boots resting comfortably and much more relaxed when she dressed and went to the dining room with the leather folder in her hand. Spotting Nicholas, she ordered a pot of Aiyana’s tea. “Please have a pre-dinner snack ready for our guests, they should be waking up any time, and I would like another bowl of those delicious cheese crisps I had earlier.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, before disappearing into the kitchen.
Jane and John were beside her when she turned back. “Oh,” she jumped, �
�for heaven’s sake, I will have to put bells on you.”
“Excuse us,” Jane said. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” She motioned to the empty chairs. “Have a seat. Dinner will be served in an hour or so but I am having the staff bring something to tide you over.”
“Very kind, thank you,” Jane said.
“That,” John pointed at the leather folder, “appears to be very old.”
Persi picked it up, unwound the chain from around it and laid it flat on the table. “We received some research material from our people.”
Suddenly Jane spoke, her forehead wrinkled and she grimaced. “I ... what is ...”
Persi opened the folder quickly and one side flopping against the table. “It concerns the Elder gods.”
Suddenly an unnatural, high-pitched scream pierced her ears. Turning to the vampires, she saw their hands were at their faces which were frozen in a mixture of terror and excruciating pain. John dropped to his knees and screamed again. The skin on both Nightwalkers rippled as if something was forcing them to change into their hunting form.
Jane grabbed John by the arm, jerked him into a standing position, and pulled him along as she quickly left the room, heading aft. Grimm, Joseph, Nicholas and Morris all entered the room with multiple guns drawn.
“What is it?” Grimm yelled.
Boots stumbled into the room, pants undone, shirt unbuttoned, and barefoot. One brace strap sat angled, barely over his right shoulder. He had his waistcoat in one hand, and his pistol in the other. “Persi, are you all right?”
All of this had happened within seconds. When her mind caught up, she shut the folder and rewrapped the chain around it. “Yes, that was John and Jane. I’m afraid they had a negative reaction to our little sheaf of papers here. They were in a state of confusion and pain and ran aft, toward the engine room.”
The Lightning Lord Page 24
