by Jess C Scott
“Love and romance,” a recorded voice came on.
Nin and Dresan took a step backwards, moving in towards Anya, when the room suddenly transformed before their eyes—the formerly elegant and comfortable interior design had folded and shifted and turned into faintly surreal red and pink themed flooring and décor.
“Thirty-two styles,” Nin muttered, impressed with the house’s settings, and losing his focus momentarily. He knew Julius was somewhere in the house. But where?
Anya noted the panel, which had four rows and eight columns of square pieces. She couldn’t resist pressing another button.
“Modern minimalist,” said the voice.
This time, the interior design changed into a contemporary furniture set design, with deluxe modpod egg chairs, and elegant leather sofas. There was still no sign of anyone else on this level of the house.
The elves moved with stealth and synchronicity, like the highly-trained, specially equipped snipers of a sentinel SWAT team. Anya stayed behind the two elves, as they moved step by step across the massive living room. Windows lined one side of the room, where the view opened up to a private backyard with a pool and spa. Anya could see why Leticia had once described Julius’s home as “a perfect move in magical retreat.”
Anya knew there was an office somewhere in the house, but she didn’t know where it was, until Nin and Dresan went right into it. She could tell from the flexible OLED wide screen which allowed for net-surfing and computer usage at a larger-than-life experience, pull-out extra keyboard panels, and other lavish technological furnishings in the room.
Xenith, Nin thought, as he recognized the logo on some stationery to one side of the table. He looked around the room. There was no other door, apart from the one they had entered, that connected the office to another room.
Anya went over to the bookcase, which was crammed with scientific and medical journals, searching for anything that could be some kind of clue. She remembered some of the video games she played during her spare time. Sometimes, there’d be a secret door behind a bookcase. Such as the one in Julius’s office, perhaps?
A photo frame of Julius and his father, standing in front of a tall tree, sat on one of the shelves. The photo caught Nin’s eye, just as something clattered upon the ground—a slim black-and-silver tube.
“Nin!” Anya called out. She tried to kick aside the tube, but it didn’t budge the slightest.
Nin reacted a second too late—he swung around and fired a shot, which shattered an antique vase in the walkway as a shadowy figure swerved back right at the last moment. Nin fired another shot, which would have hit his target, if it weren’t for the instant effects of the grayish-white plumes of smoke the black-silver tube emitted.
Anya sank to the ground first, spluttering for air. A pulsating, burning sensation surged from the back of her brain, right out to the eyes. She saw the elves hit the ground too—Nin’s hand grabbed the top part of his shirt, as he tried to breathe through it, to offset some of the smoke. That image, like a screen capture of a nightmare in real life, was the last thing she remembered, along with drowning in the utter hopelessness of hope itself.
* * *
When Anya came to, the first thing she saw was a maroon jacket, casually thrown over a chair. The right side near the pocket was charred—where Nin’s plasma gun had hit.
“This is my real office. Lab, rather.”
Anya knew that voice. The intonation and articulation were familiar, though the tone was slightly different. The voice seemed less…restrained…like it belonged to a cold, methodical, calculative person who knew exactly what he was doing.
That person was Julius Lycata. He held a vial of freshly drawn blood, deep red in color, then placed it alongside a row of similarly-hued test tubes on the counter behind him. Charts and graphs were scattered over the surface of the counter. They were the detailed records of financial forecasts and reports.
Anya blinked her eyes a few times, craning her neck upward to the ceiling, adjusting to the sickly, florescent panels of light. The stabbing sensation that had been so intense and excruciating for the duration it lasted, was now gone. Anya realized her hands were tied, when the fine but strong lines of metallic rope bit into her skin. They caused a sharp, stinging sensation, the harder she struggled to free herself.
“I see,” a muffled voice finally responded, in answer to Julius.
Anya turned a shade paler, when she saw the Elven trio, a few paces away. Their hands and feet were bound in similar fashion to Anya’s, though their bonds were tighter. Dresan and Tavia drifted in and out of consciousness, at the far corner in the room.
She gasped when she saw Nin, who was wearing an oxygen mask. His sweaty, shirtless body was hooked up to some machines behind him, one of which displayed his internal organs on a screen. Angry red and darkish bruise marks covered the inner side of Nin’s arm. Anya knew then that the metal in the rope wasn’t just an ordinary kind.
“It’s the same,” Julius muttered, looking at the screen of Nin’s internal system, and comparing it with another screen to the side. “Just more efficient…faster…cleaner…faster…and stronger? You regenerate fast.”
Julius gestured to a bloody knife behind Nin. Anya noticed a fresh, faint scar on Nin’s left forearm. Nin kept quiet. Without looking, he knew the other screen which Julius was studying showed the internal system of a human body.
“Your skin healed over so fast…” Julius continued, “…when I gave you a little cut for a test.”
Anya had the feeling that something was stuck in her throat.
Julius had turned himself a little, so that he was facing Nin. He held a slim, silver voice recorder in his hand. A ‘click’ went off when he pushed the play button—Anya felt like a shard had entered her ear.
Nin sat quietly, as he listened to the recording of his own low, expressionless voice, unrecognizable to him at first. He was answering questions as though it were a routine, and had been powerless to do otherwise. The voice asking the questions was clinical, reflecting the detached objectiveness of scientific inquiry.
“Do you have all the pieces of the parchment?”
“Yes.”
“Could you read me the first?”
“Let not the eye fool thee, for there she stands, ever renewing the Earth.”
“And the second?”
“Redroot and diamond dust. One part moonshine. One part Elvenhumankind.”
“And the third?”
“In your wanderings and dealings, neglect not the Other Side of Life.”
“Elvenhumankind is the mingling of human and elven blood, correct?”
“Yes.”
“What is the symbol?”
“I don’t know.”
Julius hit the stop button. “I got what ‘redroot,’ ‘diamond dust,’ and ‘moonshine’ were from”—Julius looked over at Dresan. He fast-forwarded the tape to that portion of his interrogation.
“What is the red root?”
“A deep root from the Tree of Life.”
“What is diamond dust?”
“Stars that fall from the night sky.”
“What is moonshine?”
“A moonbeam captured by a crystal light pendant.”
Julius put the recorder down when Leticia walked in with a parchment piece in her hand. She gave him a kiss as he slid an arm around her sinuous waist. Leticia looked upon him with a gaze that said she had eyes only for him.
“That’s what you did with Leticia.” Anya blurted out. Clearly, Julius was the real psychopath, that made Anya’s “psycho” ex look like an amateur. She would have tackled him herself were it not for the ropes holding her back. “What drug is that?”
“Something that’s used in hypnotic therapy,” Julius coolly told her. “Works like a charm, doesn’t it?”
“Do you actually see something in the guy you’re with?” Anya spat it out at Leticia. “Are you crazy? He has this secret lab in his own house and you—”
“She�
��s just seen it today.” Julius cut her off mid-sentence, as he studied the parchment Leticia had brought him. “I could use you as a test subject, for a new advanced formula sleeping pill…if you don’t keep quiet.”
Anya didn’t know if Leticia was under the influence of yet another one of Julius’s drugs. He had free access to whatever he wanted, since his family did own Xenith. Anya wondered how easy it must be for him to get people to do as he wished.
Julius walked over to Nin with the parchment. “Is this the same copy as yours?”
Julius removed the black oxygen mask from Nin’s face. Nin was careful to keep his features under control. The slightest twitch or blink of an eye, if he lied, might be picked up by Julius. Julius’s defining feature, from the first moment Nin saw him, were the bluish-gray empty depths of his eyes, devoid of any real empathy. Nin knew he was a shrewd observer, a trait that helped Julius excel in the fields of both business and science.
“It looks just like the one we have,” Nin answered, taking in all the details of the parchment. “Apart from the language. This is written in Latin.”
There was one more difference. Julius’s parchment was almost an exact replica of the Elven parchment—except for a symbol at the base of the tree, which stood in place of the o, i, l lettering of the Elven version. Nin recognized the symbol looked familiar to an ancient woodcut titled the Iaagines Coeli Septentrionale, which translated to, “Figures of the northern sky with the twelve signs of the Zodiac.”
“This symbol.” Julius pointed to it, tapping on the parchment. “What is it? And what are these numbers?” Julius’s parchment contained the circle at the bottom of the illustration, with the ‘2, 1, 7’ numbers as well.
Nin looked at the Zodiac symbol, of the classical figures of the Zodiac encircling a golden circle, from Aries the Ram, to Libra the Scales, and the Piscean fishes.
“The circle of numbers is an Elven seal,” Nin lied through his teeth, keeping his trademark cool. “And the other symbol represents the Zodiac.” Nin wasn’t lying about the Zodiac part, but he didn’t know what the numbers meant.
“An Elven seal…” said Julius, watching Nin intently.
“Like an ancient…copyright notice, for an artist.” Nin tried to piece together the numbers in the circle. “Are you a Taurus?” he asked Julius.
Julius stared at him blankly, surprised at the question. “Yes, I am.”
Nin shared his thoughts, leading Julius on. “2, 1, 7—the date that the parchment was made. Also, Varian Gilbreth’s time of birth…or the numbers of our Zodiac signs. Coincidence?”
Julius frowned. “Which is it?”
“All of the above, I think.”
Nin mused about the qualities of the Zodiac. Julius said he was a Taurus, the second sign of the Zodiac. Anya was an Aries, the first sign. Nin was a Libran. 2, 1, 7.
“Taurus,” Nin said to Julius. “The one who brings prestige to the business, the one who has immense perseverance…”
Julius gave a short laugh. “Zodiac is hogwash.”
Nin sat back, a faint smile forming on his lips. “Isn’t what I said true, of a Taurus?”
Julius rolled his eyes slightly. “Oh, it’s all so…general.”
Nin gave a nod, understanding the history of astrology. Once upon a time, in a less scientific age, astrology was a respected study.
“Despite its detractors,” Nin said slowly, “astrology is based on ancient principles, and used by the learned for greater insight not only into the future, but into the soul. It’s not just pieces of superstitious nonsense.”
Julius tapped his fingers on the tabletop beside him, unconvinced.
Nin waited a few tentative moments before asking, “Where did you get your parchment from?”
Anya took note of the odd pairings of everyone in the room. There was Dresan and Tavia, who were out cold in the corner. Anya was sure Julius had drawn at least a pint of blood from each of them, though she wasn’t sure if Nin had been subjected too. There was Leticia and herself, supposed “best friends forever.” One was being held hostage as a result of the other’s boyfriend. The third pair was Julius and Nin, who matched each other in terms of calmness, unruffled composure, and razor-sharp intelligence. Those shared qualities seemed to lend a certain amount of eerie camaraderie, in the way they interacted with each other.
“Varian Gilbreth,” Julius answered, leaning back against the edge of the table. “You broke into his vault. Pretty impressive.”
Anya rolled her eyes slightly, at Julius’s ignorance of her presence, and lack of acknowledgement of her handiwork at the institute.
“I had help,” Nin replied, assuredly. “What does he know about elves?”
Anya looked down at her collarbone just then, and then at the elves. She had just realized their pendants were missing.
“The iron particles in the sensor,” Nin said, when Julius didn’t respond. “That was…your invention?”
Julius smiled, showing a straight set of white teeth, that belied the lack of genuine warmth in him. He was like a cat, playing with its prey. “I thought it might help me…capture an elf.”
“So it’s you that knows about elves…not Gilbreth.”
Julius stayed quiet. Nin picked up on his game quickly. Julius would answer, but only if the other person deserved to be given the information. In Nin’s case, he had to prove it by showcasing his mental acumen, to be an “equal” in Julius’s eyes.
Nin remembered Anya’s mention about Samuel Lycata. “Unless it’s Gilbreth’s parchment, that you stole.”
Julius gave a half-smile. “He claimed his ancestor was a medieval scribe. He talks gibberish sometimes. The man has Alzheimer’s, along with paranoid schizophrenia…and thus is a little, senile.”
Nin thought about it. “That’s how you know Gilbreth? You’re his private drug-dispenser.”
“You’ve read Xenith’s catalog, I see,” Julius said, with the same smile as before. “Nearly correct. He goes to my dad for new drugs not on the market yet.”
“The man in the photo at the vault.”
Julius nodded. “I’ve been to Gilbreth’s home a few times. He’s very scholarly…he has a library full of medieval history, and the like. But he doesn’t always remember what he’s studying. One day, I did see a parchment. He had taken it out, and left it out in the open on the table in his study.”
“You could read the Latin words,” Nin pointed out. “I saw the dictionary on your bookcase.” If there had been an English-Latin dictionary on the bookcase in Julius’s office, Anya had missed it.
Julius raised an eyebrow. “Earlier that day, Gilbreth had given us a tour of his private collection in the vault. I noticed the parchment in Gilbreth’s home matched one of the pieces in the glass cabinet, in the vault. This part”—he pointed to the middle portion of Gilbreth’s parchment—“looked identical. Arbor was the first word that caught my eye.”
“The Latin word for tree,” Nin said. Anya wondered how many more things that were obvious to Nin continued to remain non-obvious to her. She thought she’d need more than ten fingers to keep count.
“Funny how things seem to all fall into place at once, hmm?”
Nin nodded. “So you didn’t need to hear the poem from me,” he said with a sort of grave courtesy. “You actually had the human version. We had to look for a missing piece.”
“I just wanted to make sure.” Julius took a step forward, as his jaw twitched slightly. “That’s something I wanted to know. Why are there two copies?”
“Elves and humans got along better, in the past. They actually mingled, and socialized,” Nin told him. “My guess is that Gilbreth’s ancestor had an Elven friend or two.”
“The part about the tree is what I figured out first,” Julius said. “It happened by chance. I knew then that the other two sections of the poem had to be true.”
“Leticia told you, while you had her under hypnosis,” Anya said.
Leticia continued to alternate between staring
blankly into space, and adoringly at Julius. “He had to test the drug out on someone,” Leticia said.
“She told me what she knew about the poem, her ‘Elven friends’, and about the break-in,” Julius shared the specifics. “All I had to do was appear on the scene, and return, with a real, live elf. And your friend, Tavia,”—Julius waved a hand towards her—“she happened to set off something on my GVMT.”
Nin held Julius’s gaze, wondering what he meant with the insidious phones the elves had long known about.
Julius brought out his GVMT cell phone model, fiddling around with some of the consoles. “My model detects nanoparticles in the air—they show up as red and orange little cells on my screen.” He held the phone up, to show Nin and Anya an example. “I was at the stairs, in the GI…”
Anya remembered lying in wait, with the beefy guard skulking around in front.
“…when my phone started to vibrate. I checked the screen—and there were nanoparticles, but they were of a different color.”
Julius located another image, and showed them the screen. This time, the little cells were light blue and purple, the color of the swirls in the elves’ plasma guns, which Tavia had carried along with her into the GI.
“What is that? I know they’re nanoparticles, because that app on my phone doesn’t pick up on any other substance—but why are they this color?”
“They’re a safer, more sophisticated blend,” Nin answered. “The human version of nanotechnology creates particles that settle in the brain and lungs. Prolonged exposure induces skin aging through oxidative stress. The chromosome damage is linked to all the big killers of man—cancer, heart disease, neurological disease, and aging.”
Julius simply nodded, a reflective expression on his face, as he took in everything Nin had just said. “Yes, we use nanotech to create untraceable weapons of mass destruction…networked cameras for use by the government…and weapons-development, fast enough to destabilize arms races.” He paused for a moment. “And what do you call your Elven version of…nanotech?”
