by Amelia Grace
The
Book Keeper
By Amelia Grace
The
Book Keeper
Text Copyright 2013 Amelia Grace
All Rights Reserved
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Young Adult/Adult Reading Material
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We are not given a good life or a bad life. We are given a life. It’s up to us to make it good or bad ~ unknown
Life doesn’t give you the people you want. It gives you the people you need; to help you, to hurt you, to love you, to leave you, and to make you into the person you were meant to be ~ unknown
Live beautifully. Dream passionately. Love completely ~ wish I knew...
Chapter One
The long bony index finger slid down the page of names, searching for the terrena nomen dedit of the man standing before him. It stopped at the empty space amongst other names, alphabetically.
His name was not there. Vanished.
‘Sir, your Earthly Given Name does not appear to be in The Book. You must return, Earthbound –perhaps it is not your time, or......’ His voice was deep and grave, his eyes soulful.
The solitary man looked into the eyes of the unknown figure, searching for answers to questions not yet asked. And then he looked to the ridiculously large book that rested upon the golden lectern, each page edged in fine gold.
Tears pooled in his weary eyes as he shook his head in disbelief.
My name is not in the book?
My. Name. Is. Not. In. The. Book......
He clutched his chest as the pain seared through his heart, and then the blackness fell upon him like a plague, surrounding him as the silence moved in to torture him.
Chapter Two
A rough tongue licked my foot as it hung over the edge of the bed, rousing me from the depths of unconsciousness. Fogginess covered my vision as I weakly opened my eyes. My heavy body struggled free of the uncomfortable sleep.
I looked down to the floor. There sat a mangy cat. Not mine. I don’t own a cat. In fact, I believed them to be evil. How did it get in here?
I shook my head and looked around, the perception of grogginess finally abating, but lurking in my mind was a faint awkward memory. I couldn’t remember the details. But it left an uneasy haunting feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I made haste to the window of my bedroom, disturbing the dust specks in the filtered beams of morning sunlight that crept in. The specks of dust now chaotically floated, colliding with each other around in the light.
The street below was busy with cars travelling at a hasty pace. A dog was at the fence barking at some children running past on their way to school. It all looked very familiar. I ran my hand through my hair and shook my head. Everything looked the same – but did not feel the same. What was different?
Then my reflection on the window pane caught my eye, and the memories from the dream came flooding back to me. The Book. I shook my head from side to side. The dream – it was wrong, so so wrong.
I squatted on the floor and put my head to my knees, my hands over my head. My personality felt like it was disintegrating, and I couldn’t distinguish between reality and fantasy. Was I going insane? Is this what it is like to go crazy, to lose control of your mind?
My heart started palpitating and I began trembling, uncontrollably. The light headed feeling in my head gave way to chest pain, and then I was gasping for breath. This was it. I was going to die.
I sucked in a huge breath of air. I REFUSE to die. This is NOT how my life will end!
Now I was angry! And it was growing inside me like a raging fire. Veins rose on my forehead as I let out a deep scream of frustration. I beat my fists fiercely on the floor boards. It is not real. It. Is. Not. Real!
Desperate for self preservation. I lay face down on the floor and let the loud sobs heave from my chest. Tears flooded from my eyes dripping to the floor, and saliva dribbled from my open mouth hanging as deep sadness came to being. I cried through to emotional exhaustion, the tiredness overcoming me. I dragged my heavy body back to the bed. My bed. And closed my eyes. The dream was not real. If I said it enough I would believe it.
I awoke to the loud splots of heavy rain on the windows. Summer rain. One thing that I loved. The sound, the smell, the expectation, the muted light from the heavy clouds.
I leaned over to turn on the bedside lamp, and there it was – a book.
A. Book.
Covered in dust. Not mine. Definitely not mine! I’m not a book man. Don’t read books. Don’t buy books. In fact, they’re only good for a fire-starter in my opinion.
I consciously moved my eyes away from the book, and looked at the soft light of the lamp. I blinked slowly, trying to erase the suspicious book from my mind.
A book? Here?. My curiosity piqued. I leaned over and blew the dust off the top. It flowed off the cover and into the air like a wave turning over on itself, leaving the worn brown leather cover naked to the eye. I ran my finger tips lightly over the bizarre book.
It was smooth and soft, like the skin of a newborn baby. But then my fingers felt the bumps. It was blemished. Damaged. I held the leather bound book in my hands, raised it level with my eyes and looked closely at the area of damage. It was not damage on the leather, but the markings had been placed there on purpose. It was embossed. The words were unknown to me – Mutato Nomine De Te Fabula Narratur – Latin, I think.
I shook my head, disgruntled. Books. I don’t do books. I placed it back on the bedside table, and out sight, out of mind.
I don’t do books. Okay. Never. Ever.
I rubbed my forehead with my hand as I closed my eyes, and then left the bedroom, only to return to fetch the book. The aggravating, stupid book!. I wanted it to repel me like all frigging books did. But it didn’t. I was drawn to it. I hate books! I don’t do books!
I swung my hand over the leather cover and let my fingers fall heavily onto it, and then begrudgingly picked it up. I felt like slamming it down onto the wooden floor. Why did it incite anger in me? My entire body was repelled by it, and obsessed with it at the same time. I ran my hand through my hair and took a deep breath, turned and walked into the kitchen with it. I placed it on the kitchen table to deal with later. Bloody book!
My mood had now been set for the rest of the day. I swung my work satchel over my shoulder and left the apartment in haste, hoofed it down the three flights of stairs onto the street and ran to catch the bus, but missed it. And with it I missed the connecting train as well. Bloody Book! Now I would be an hour and a half late for work. The boss would not be happy – join the club I say! Bloody book!
‘Cohen, nice of you to turn up at work today.’ Sarcasm spewed from the mouth of my ever pleasant boss. Perhaps I should have delivered a vanilla latte to her as I walked in the door. A peace offering. Sometimes it worked.
‘Aye. Couldn’t get my designs wet in the rain – played it safe,’ I offered as an excuse aka lie, to soften the blow. She lowered her head and raised her right eyebrow. No smile in sight.
‘Bring them to my office immediately Mr Darcy,’ she ordered before she turned abruptly, her skirt swishing around and then settling as she walked off with intent.
&nb
sp; I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and then followed her to the office, enclosed in glass, the blinds closed – our conversation would not be seen, or heard.
Her walnut coloured desk was her battle station. She stood behind it, arms folded under her breasts, pushing them up slightly. Her face was impassive.
‘Shut the door Mr Darcy.’ Her words froze the air. I looked into her green eyes momentarily before I smoothly turned and closed the door with the faintest click.
‘Don’t bother to sit. You won’t be here long.’ Her words were curt. I took a deep breath before I turned and looked at her. Here goes..I knew the book was a bad sign.
I took a step forward, and stopped, nervous energy rebounding about inside my body. I am about to be fired.....
I closed my eyes waiting for the words to come from her mouth, her mouth that was framed by perfectly formed lips. How could such piercing words of poison leave such a place of beauty?
When I opened my eyes again, she was standing directly in front of me. I could smell her perfume, feel her breath on me, sweet and minty. Her eyes looked directly into mine. They looked so innocent, needy.
‘Cohen, I received a directive this morning. You will no longer be here with us. You need to report in at CAI by three o’clock this afternoon. They have ..... needs that only you can fill.’ Her voice was soft and full of regret. It was like she was two different people. She moved her hand around to the back of my neck and lightly into my hair. Such confusing mixed messages. One minute closed and icy, the next, warm and seductive.
She looked deeply into my eyes before she moved her lips gently onto mine, kissing me lightly, and then with intent.
I put my hand at the side of her face and ended the kiss.
‘Catherine......no,’ I said roughly, shaking my head. ‘You are my boss. Off limits to me. I’m sorry,’ my voice trailed off. She looked deeply into my eyes once more, then lightly ran her warm soft hand over the side of my neck, and along my jaw line before brushing a finger over my bottom lip, singing to my primal urges .
‘Not anymore,’ she whispered suggestively. I brought my eyebrows together as I shook my head slowly.
‘I can’t...I’m sorry.’ I said with a gentle tone. She took a small step back from me, and then removed the satchel from over my shoulders, and placed it on the chair without taking her eyes off me. She placed both hands on my chest, and then slid them up over my shoulders and around my neck and hugged me tightly, pressing her body into mine.
I exhaled, feeling my body respond to her physical assertiveness, and wrapped my arms around her. She placed a tender kiss below my right ear. I lowered my head slightly, scrambling to regain my composure before I gave into my desires.
I reached up to her arms and peeled them off from me.
‘I can’t Catherine – not here, not now....You are still my boss. I may return here someday.’
‘One day you will regret that you had refused me Cohen – remember that!’ she whispered into my ear, before kissing me lightly again, and then stepped away. In an instant she had become cold and business like – detached.
“Collect your belongings Mr Darcy. Talk to no-one and leave by 12 o’clock, or you shall be escorted out by security – understood?’
‘Clearly,’ I stated, raising my eyebrows questioning her reaction. I grabbed my satchel of designs, and promptly left the office and bee-lined for my desk, eyes burning into me as I walked past colleagues and friends.
I placed my satchel onto my worn chair, and placed my hands at the back of my head, closing my eyes in frustration. That bloody book!
I found an empty cardboard box and placed all of my belongings into it. Not much really, mostly drawing and designing implements. No photos, no decorations, no personal oddities. I grabbed my satchel, my cardboard box and turned around to the silent stares and saddened faces of my colleagues and friends. I nodded once at them all acknowledging them and saying goodbye, and then left, exiting the building along the long walkway.
Catherine stood outside her office, her face serious, sour.
‘Good day Mr Darcy,’ she spat out, her tone acidic. I looked at her and half smiled.
‘I assure you, I will never regret it Miss White,’ I said, my tone even, controlled. I nodded slightly to her and walked out the door to a waiting taxi.
Chapter Three
The rain obliterated the skyline for the entire hour long journey to the new office space. I sprinted from the taxi to the revolving door, where I was then escorted up to the 27th floor of the communications giant.
Everything was white. Everything looked sterile. The information desk was occupied by a woman in white with white hair, her teeth scarily too white. I felt like I had been sanitized.
‘Mr Darcy, welcome to Communication Alliances Incorporated ,’ her voice squeaked. ‘Mr Rubin is waiting for you. You may enter now.’
I smiled and nodded at her, wondering about how her psychological health was affected from working in this area of sensory depravity. Poor woman. She seemed to have been stripped of any personality. So cruel.
Mr Rubin was sitting in his high back red leather chair when I entered his office, facing away from me.
‘Mr Darcy, good to see that you can follow orders. Now sit.....please,’ His voice was deep and spellbinding as he turned in his chair to face me.
His voice did not match his physical attributes. He seemed to be a small framed man as he sat in his leather chair, but perhaps it appeared that way because of the disproportional height of the seat.
His face was white and rounded, puffy even, topped off with a bald shiny scalp. He looked up at me with his small beady dark eyes.
‘It seems that you have something that we need. The drawing. Hand it over.’
Well, let’s get straight to the point shall we? Smooth, real smooth…..
‘I don’t understand Sir. I have no knowledge or understanding of what you are talking about,’ I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
What did I have that was so important to the company?
‘Mr Darcy, our security data has shown that you have drawn a design that is of great significance to us. It has the potential to revolutionize communications. It is the eye piece that is implantable that we seek.’
My mind was in an electrostatic buzz. Not the drawing of the eye implant that allows internal brain visualization and was a thought scanner mind device. It was imperfect. It wasn’t ready. It was also science fiction, meant for imaginative purposes only.
‘Sir. The implant is not real. I was fooling around with my creative imagination to create a state of subliminal awareness to locate the missing piece of the seventh key to the seventh communication sense, as requested by the company,’ I explained, my mind in a panic.
‘That would be the one that we seek Mr Darcy.’ He raised his left eyebrow, his face deadly serious. ‘Hand it over. It is the intellectual property of Communication Alliances Incorporated.’
His dark eyes pieced mine with threatening domination. I wanted to stand tall and deflect his aggression, but thought the better of it. It would be smarter to play along at this stage, learn the rules of the game, and play it better than anyone else.
I opened my satchel, flicked through the drawings and designs and handed Mr Rubin the piece of work that he was asking for. Little did he know that the original was stored in a fireproof safe at my residence.
Play the game, play it better.
‘You will continue to work on it here until the technology is perfected Mr Darcy. That way we can be assured of maximum security. You have no idea how your work will change the world Mr Darcy. You have become our most valuable employee. And we look after what we value. Tomorrow you start work at 9am, 28th floor. Do not be late. Your work records show your tardiness. Good day Mr Darcy.’
He picked up the design and turned his chair away from me. The epitome of rudeness. I burnt my eyes into the rear of his stupid red leather chair.
Mr Rubin, you have no idea what I am
capable of.
The light touch of a hand on my arm alerted me to the pitiful white girl’s presence.
‘This way Sir,’ she squeaked. She indicated to the doorway of Mr Rubin’s office, and then led me to the elevator, which was waiting for me, the button pressed for the ground floor already. I stepped into it, and smiled at white girl as the doors closed. She didn’t bat an eyelid. Challenge on.
Bloody book! It entered my mind as I exited through the ridiculous revolving doors. Who has revolving doors these days anyway? And, how is that maximum security. Someone has a screw loose somewhere in this corporation. And it isn’t me!
Outside the opulent building, a taxi was waiting in the pouring rain. At first I thought that it was good timing. But then the taxi driver welcomed me by name. This wasn’t a co-incidence. I breathed in deeply as my skin prickled.
By the time that I had arrived at my apartment, the storm had moved in, green skies threatening to release its violence of hail, and powerful lightning leaving the evidence of a thunderous crack throughout the atmosphere.
My drenched hand fumbled as I inserted the key into the shaft of the lock. The door to my apartment opened with ease and the old mangy cat flew out of my apartment back to where it belonged.
Good.
I ventured into the kitchen and grabbed a stiff drink, hoping that it would subdue my bubbling erratic emotions. What a day! The dream, the book, the seduction, the unlawful act of stealing my work. The promise that my life would never be the same. Maybe I could do a system restore of my life to an earlier time, and bypass the events of today.
I dragged my feet as I walked over and sat on the sofa. I ran my hand through my hair, put my head back and closed my eyes and breathed out deeply. Could the day get any worse?
Chapter Four
A sudden blast of cold wind woke me from a temporary semi-conscious state. The icy wind streamed across my face as the sound of papers rattling alerted me to their location before taking flight around the room.
