The Endora Trilogy (The Complete Series)

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “This is Lucy, everyone,” Molly jumped in. “She’s the history major I told you about and she can’t wait to get a special tour of the museum.” She introduced her to Vergil and her parents. “And you remember my great uncle Artemas.”

  “Of course,” Lucy said. “From Finland.”

  Artemas nodded. “Thereabouts.”

  “I can tell you all about the timedoor!” Vergil chimed in. But an instant later, Mrs. Jordan pulled her son to her side and pleasantly laughed.

  “Now, sweetheart, no need to bother Molly’s friend,” she said, kneeling next to Vergil and wiping his mouth with a napkin she had gotten with her coffee. “There’s some face paint near your lip. Let me clean it off.”

  “Mom, I’m fine! I just wanted to tell that girl about the–”

  “–timedoor!” Mr. Jordan interrupted. “I can tell you all about that, Lucy.”

  “You can?” she said.

  “You can?” Molly repeated with a mystified gaze.

  “I had told everyone to keep it a secret, but Lucy is a history major after all,” he replied. “And as I’ll be giving her a tour on Thursday–if you’re free, that is–”

  “I am,” Lucy said.

  “–then there’s no reason why she shouldn’t know about the timedoor.”

  Mrs. Jordan stared at her husband, slightly in shock. “There isn’t?” she managed to utter before glancing at Artemas and shrugging her shoulders. Artemas remained silent, curiously anticipating what Mr. Jordan would tell Lucy.

  “I’ve been working on plans for a new exhibit at the museum,” he continued. “I can’t give you all the details yet, but I’m thinking about calling it A Timedoor Into the Past. It’s still a working title, so keep it under wraps.”

  “No problem,” Lucy said. “Sounds interesting, Mr. Jordan. I think it’s a great title for an exhibit.”

  “I do too,” Artemas agreed. “I’m sure it will be an astounding display.”

  Mrs. Jordan quietly sighed with relief. Molly grinned and gave a thumbs-up sign to her father when Lucy wasn’t looking.

  “Maybe I could get a preview of this timedoor exhibit,” Lucy suggested. “I’d love to see the items you’re going to include in it. Maybe bounce a few ideas off me.”

  “Perhaps I will. How’s three o’clock sound? Molly will be along for the ride.”

  “I’ll be there!” Lucy said.

  “Me too!” Vergil insisted. “Why should Molly have all the fun?”

  “If you’re good that day, I’ll take you,” Mrs. Jordan told him. “Maybe Christopher will tag along too. We’ll make it a family tour. Care to join us, Artemas?”

  “I won’t have time for the tour, but I’ll stop by before five o’clock. I’d love to take you all–out to dinner!” he said with a strained smile. “Before I return to–Finland. There’s a tiny restaurant a few miles from here that I’ve heard good things about. It’s called Rupert’s Place. Pencil it in. Thursday. Five o’clock.”

  Molly pulled the penlight out of her coat pocket and pretended to write upon a piece of imaginary paper. “We’ll be waiting, Artemas. And don’t be late!”

  “Where’s everybody going?” a voice softly said from behind. Mina Mayfield joined the small gathering, smiling at Artemas all the while. A smattering of laughter and applause floated through the brittle air as the storyteller neared the end of her tale. “We’re almost finished, Artemas, so I sneaked over to let you know I’m just about ready.”

  “I look forward to our stroll through the park,” he replied, quickly explaining about Mr. Jordan’s Thursday museum tour.

  “I’d love to tag along,” she said after Mr. Jordan invited her. “However, I’ll be working then, so I must decline. But it’ll be quite an opportunity for Lucy, so be sure to take advantage of it, dear.”

  “Trust me, Miss Mayfield, I will,” she replied, raising her coat collar to ward off a strengthening breeze. “I definitely know an opportunity when I see one.”

  “That settles it then. I’ll see you in three days,” Mr. Jordan said as Lucy waved goodbye to everyone and hurried back for the conclusion of the storytelling event.

  “And I’ll see you now,” Artemas added, politely extending a hand to Miss Mayfield while at the same time keeping an eye on Lucy as she slowly drifted away through the crowd. “I’ll accompany you back until your story time event concludes, Mina, then we can grab a bite to eat from one of the park vendors.”

  “A deal,” she replied, taking his hand. “And while we’re walking and dining, you must promise to tell me a story about your life in–Finland? I’m so looking forward to hearing about the mysterious and magical Artemas. I’m sure you could weave an interesting tale.”

  “Oh, I assure you there’s nothing that fascinating to report, Mina. You make it sound as if I’m from another world!” he said, tossing a wink at the Jordans as he and Mina passed by and disappeared into the bustling crowd and the frosty darkness.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A Helping Hand

  January arrived gray and bleak, as if winter had tightened its grasp with no plans of ever letting go. Though the temperature had warmed slightly, the clouds thickened and snow flurries peppered the air like mosquitoes at a picnic. It was a miserable day to play outdoors, but a perfect day for an extended tour of the museum. Mr. Jordan guided Lucy and his family through several hallways, many containing long narrow windows that stretched to the ceiling. The dreary daylight reflected off smooth glassy floor tiles decorated with patterns of rich dark marble.

  They viewed some displays about prehistoric times and the sights and sounds of the Middle Ages. At Molly’s insistence, Mr. Jordan presented a brief star show inside the planetarium. Everyone sat back in cushioned chairs in the darkness and watched the constellations swirl about on a domed ceiling. Christopher and Molly fondly recalled using the planetarium to help King Rupert and Artemas determine when the timedoor would reopen while they were trapped in this world on their first visit.

  “And now for something extra special!” Mr. Jordan said a short while later as he escorted everyone down a restricted staircase into the basement, a sprawling web of rooms and corridors containing crates and boxes of uncatalogued items. “I saved the best for last!”

  “Dad, some of the sections down here look like a tornado passed through,” Christopher said as he glanced about. “You need to hire more help.”

  “Everything’s not as organized as it should be, but we’re overwhelmed with items and there are only so many hours in a day.”

  “Maybe I could get a job here,” Lucy said. “I would love losing myself in all these artifacts. What a treasure trove!”

  Vergil snickered as he tugged on his mother’s shirt sleeve. “And you and Dad tell me to keep my room clean? This is a super mess!”

  “I’m not sure which place is worse,” Mrs. Jordan replied. “It may be a tie.”

  “This section isn’t typical of everything down here,” Mr. Jordan said. “There are several storerooms that are organized and spotless. Some of the really valuable items are locked up, and once something is catalogued, it is cleaned and maintained with tender loving care.”

  “I think it’s fabulous!” Lucy said as they strolled through a cluttered and dimly lit corridor. Unmarked cardboard boxes sat piled on a row of narrow tables lined against a whitewashed cement wall. “What are you currently working on, Mr. Jordan?”

  “We have a collection of oriental pottery loaned to us from another museum for one of our spring exhibits. Beautiful hand painted vases, plates and the like from the eighteenth century Far East,” he explained. “They’re in one of the lockups just around the corner. I’ve been going through the items to see which ones we should display.”

  “I’d like to take a peek,” Lucy said.

  “Me too,” Mrs. Jordan added. “Any chance to use those pieces on our dining room table?”

  “I don’t think so, honey. I couldn’t afford the insurance premiums to enjoy that plate of spaghett
i!”

  “Don’t you have anything more exciting?” Christopher asked. “I mean–pottery?” he said with an exaggerated yawn.

  “Maybe you’ll learn something,” Molly said, lightly jabbing him with an elbow.

  “Maybe you’ll run away and disappear if a mouse crawls out from behind one of those crates,” he muttered.

  “Maybe Lucy will run away if you two don’t put a lid on it,” their father quipped.

  “Don’t worry about me. I have a younger brother,” she replied with a chuckle. “I know how it is. Most of the time bickering between siblings is just a big act.”

  “Sure. Chris is a class act!” Molly said with a laugh.

  “And you’re a clown act,” her brother replied.

  “Are you sure about that?” Mrs. Jordan whispered to Lucy as they turned the corner.

  “Positive,” she replied, fingering her necklace. “I know an act when I see one.”

  Mr. Jordan took them into a large room with white plaster walls lit with rows of overhead lights. A huge metal desk along one side served as a working station, equipped with a computer and digital camera, reference books, and most importantly, a coffee pot and a sleeve of foam cups. Shelves on both sides of the room were crammed with cardboard boxes and plastic containers marked with identifying stickers printed with strings of numbers and letters. The last third of the room was sealed off with a screen of black wire latticework stretching from wall to wall and ceiling to floor. A door of similar construction was built into the center. Mr. Jordan grabbed a key lying near the computer, unlocked the cage door and tossed it back on the desk.

  “Not much into security measures around here,” Christopher said with a smirk.

  “We hide the key after hours, wise guy,” his father replied, opening the door.

  Vergil bolted past his father into the cage and pressed his face against the front, grabbing the metalwork and shaking it. “Let me out of this jail! Let me out! Let me out!” he hollered between bouts of giggling, staring at his sister on the other side.

  “That’s the perfect place for you,” Molly said dryly as she followed Lucy and her parents inside. “It can be your new playroom.”

  “How you doing in there, Verg?” Christopher said as he passed by, shaking his brother’s hand through one of the large diamond-shaped openings. He then sat down in the desk chair, checking out the computer. “Got any good games on this thing, Dad?”

  “Don’t even think about it, Chris,” his father replied as he searched the boxes on the shelves inside the cage for a pottery sample. “Join us in here for the big show.”

  “I’ll rush right in,” he muttered, leaning back in the swivel chair and turning from side to side.

  “Okay, Vergil, enough with the convict act,” his mother said as she pried her son’s fingers off the metal enclosure. “Let’s see what Daddy has to show us.”

  “All right,” he sighed, trudging over with his mother.

  “Could one of you girls grab that blue textbook lying open on the desk?” Mr. Jordan asked as he carefully set a red plastic container on a small table inside the cage. The sample had been sealed with a series of computer-generated stickers. “There’s a photograph in that book of this very item I’m about to show you along with a small write-up. You don’t know how privileged you are to view these things up close.”

  “I’ll get the book,” Molly said, heading out of the cage.

  “I’m getting hungry,” Vergil added, staring up at the staggering assortment of items.

  “Mind if I grab a cup of coffee?” Lucy asked.

  “Help yourself,” Mr. Jordan said, carefully removing the stickers as his wife watched him work. She was pleased that her husband still enjoyed his job so much.

  “Anyone else want some?” Lucy offered as she followed Molly out of the cage.

  “Maybe later,” Mrs. Jordan replied, still watching her husband at work while keeping a spare eye on Vergil.

  “Don’t say I didn’t offer,” Lucy whispered to herself, quietly palming the key to the cage as she swept past the desk. Then she stopped and turned around. “Suddenly I don’t feel like coffee,” she announced as Molly reached for the blue textbook and Christopher spun around in lazy circles in the swivel chair. Lucy walked back to the metal enclosure, nonchalantly closed the door and locked it.

  Christopher dropped his feet to the floor and stopped spinning in the chair. “Lucy, what are you doing?”

  Molly looked up and saw Lucy with the key dangling from her hand, perplexed for an instant until she noticed the cage door had been closed. “If that’s supposed to be a joke, Lucy, it’s not very funny.”

  “I don’t make jokes, Molly.”

  “What’s going on?” Mrs. Jordan said, turning around to discover that she and her husband and youngest son were prisoners inside the cage. She clutched the door and shook it. “Unlock this door at once, Lucy! What are you trying to prove?”

  Mr. Jordan dashed to his wife’s side. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Vergil walked to the front of the cage and pressed his nose to the metalwork. “We really are in jail,” he softly said.

  “Not for long!” Christopher jumped up and stormed over to Lucy. “You have a strange sense of humor, girl. Now give me the key!”

  “Here,” Lucy said, holding it out. But as soon as Christopher reached for it, she tossed the key into the air toward Molly who grabbed it before it hit the floor.

  “I think this tour is over,” Mr. Jordan snapped. “Unlock this door, Molly.”

  “Right away, Dad.”

  “Right away, Dad!” Lucy mimicked with a sneer before she bolted from Christopher’s side and charged directly at Molly. “After all, Molly, you know how awful it is to be locked up!” she added, lightly touching one finger against the back of Molly’s hand as she swept by.

  An instant later, Lucy staggered about, caught halfway between a run and a walk. The room spun in a dizzying blur as a faceless voice floating among her bewildered thoughts slowly faded. Lucy tried to grab hold of something and get her bearings, believing she was in the public library. She searched desperately for the edge of the checkout desk before her legs gave out, wondering where Miss Mayfield and the woman in the maroon coat had gone. She stumbled over her own feet and tripped on the leg of a swivel chair before crashing to the floor, seeing a white flash in her mind–then feeling nothing more.

  “Are you all right?” Christopher cried as he brushed past Molly and went to Lucy’s aid as she lay sprawled out on the floor. She had hit her head on the edge of the desk.

  “She looks fine,” Molly flatly replied, standing as still as stone with the key to the metal cage locked in her grasp. “There’s a lesson to be learned here–don’t run before you’re about to faint! Not good for the balance.”

  “Quit making stupid jokes and unlock the cage!” Christopher said as he examined Lucy.

  “Let us out of here, Molly!” Vergil demanded.

  “Hurry!” Mrs. Jordan said.

  Though Lucy had passed out, she appeared to be breathing normally and there was no sign of blood or a cut. Christopher felt somewhat relieved and glanced up at his sister. During all the commotion, Molly had not moved an inch.

  “Why are you standing there? Unlock the door.”

  Molly sighed. “Like I said before, I don’t make jokes–stupid or otherwise.”

  “Would you just–”

  Then it hit him like a punch to the stomach. Christopher stared at Molly for several moments, observing the same cool demeanor that Lucy had displayed only moments ago. An eerie calm possessed his sister. A dull gray lifelessness filled her eyes. Christopher softly mouthed a single word. “Belthasar.”

  “So you’ve finally figured it out,” Molly said, tossing the key into the air and catching it. “About time! I’ve been inside Lucy for six days, ever since you, your sister and the great and mighty Artemas traipsed over to the library that one morning.” Molly turned around and walked toward the cag
e, offering a contemptuous smile to Mr. and Mrs. Jordan. “As you can see, my acting abilities have improved ever since I took up residence in Elvin L. Cooper. I learned a lot from him about playing a personality.”

  “Well, you’ve still got a lot to learn from us!” Mr. Jordan said, reaching through the cage to grab Molly.

  She stepped back an instant before his hand could grasp her arm. “Not fast enough!”

  “Neither are you!” Christopher said, wrapping his arms around Molly as he dashed at her from behind. “Always watch your back!”

  “As if it matters.”

  Molly casually slapped the back of Christopher’s hand and the spirit of Belthasar passed into him. He grabbed the key from Molly and pushed the slightly dazed girl aside.

  “What’s going on?” hollered Molly, rubbing her brow. Then she noticed Lucy sprawled upon the floor. “What happened to her?”

  “Belthasar is in Christopher!” her mother cried. “Keep away from him!”

  “You’d think I had the plague,” Christopher said with a smirk, his eyes tinged with the color of wet ash as he walked toward an air vent in the floor near the door. He dropped the key through the metal grille covering the top. “That takes care of that!”

  “Leave my children alone!” Mr. Jordan said. “Fight me instead–if you have the guts.”

  Christopher tilted his head and shrugged. “A year ago such a taunt might have provoked me. But I’ve learned a lot since then. I can get more accomplished when I control my anger and my ego.”

  “You may put on a good act, Belthasar, but in the end your anger and conceit will spill out,” Molly scoffed. “It always does.”

  Christopher took a deep breath. “Oh, Molly, how I truly miss all the lovely conversations we used to share when you visited my world–not!”

  “And what do you plan to do now that you’re in ours?” Mrs. Jordan asked as she stared through the metal latticework, one arm wrapped around Vergil’s shoulder.