Maybe it was just another test that Grandpa needed to pass to get a black tag like his.
“I found it by the car with my name on a note.” Morgan smiled. “Maybe I have an admirer, too.”
“Yeah right. Bolswaithe told me that it was really old.” Thomas made a mental note to search for the Atheliol on the intra-library web when he got to work.
“Why? There’s some pretty accountants in my office, you know?” Grandpa fiddled with the Atheliol and one of the filigree forms moved under his fingers. “So how long did it take you to do this?”
“Like half an hour. But the doctor said I solved it in almost record time.” Thomas glanced at his watch. He’d promised Mrs. Pianova that he would be twenty minutes early. He kissed his grandpa on the cheek. “Double or nothing on the bet?”
“Sure, more for me,” Morgan said as he patted his pocket again. “See you after work, and don’t forget the Non-Disclosure Agreements.”
Thomas picked up the binders. The two-week trial had ended and although he had not seen Tasha at all, both he and Grandpa decided to stay with the company. Every day had been a little better than the last. After all, how bad could it be?
Part II
The Cypher
A Life and Death Situation
The usual library rush hour had passed, and Thomas was doing research for his geography class when Tasha entered his station.
She was dressed in khaki and wore a round hat with a white veil on top. A dust puff floated around her with every step she took, and her arms were covered in fine sand.
“Hi Thomas!” she said flashing a smile. “How’s work?”
“Ah… great. I love it.” He couldn’t believe how pretty she looked even covered in dirt. He crossed his fingers so he wouldn’t fiddle with them like he always did when he was nervous.
He wasn’t shy around girls at school. He had girlfriends in Ohio, pretty girls too. He couldn’t understand why she had this effect on him.
It both mystified and scared him a little bit.
“Do you have the agreements?” she asked resting her elbows on his desk. All the butterflies in his stomach took flight at the same time.
“Oh yeah,” he blurted. “Here they are.” He placed the two binders in front of her. “And how have you’ve been?”
“Great,” she said as she checked the initials and signatures. “It’s a great company.”
“Yes, it is.” Thomas found himself concentrating on her thin lips as she flipped through the pages.
After checking that everything was in order, Tasha produced an envelope from her bag. “Here’s your first check,” she said extending it toward Thomas. “I’ll give your grandfather his check when he comes in.”
Thomas took the envelope without saying a word.
“Well,” she smiled again, picking up the binders. “See you around.” She turned toward the exit.
“Sure, I’ll be here!” Thomas said as she closed the door. He kept staring at the door for a moment after she closed it behind her.
“I’ll be here! I’ll be here! God!“ He mocked himself after she was gone.
He’d carefully planned what he was going to say to her. Compliment her, maybe even invite her out or something, but he’d turned into jelly the moment he saw her, just like Grandpa had predicted.
Grandpa had made a bet that Thomas would freeze-up when he saw her. So true. He owed Grandpa a dollar. At least he had the money to pay. He ripped open the envelope and his eyes widened when he saw the check.
“Wow,” he whistled. It was way more than what he would’ve made flipping burgers. Maybe even more than what the managers of those restaurants made. All that secrecy about his job and his black tag seemed to carry a reward after all.
Three more checks like this one and he could buy a car, and not just a car. A convertible GT Mustang just like his mother always wanted. Of course Grandpa would have to approve first.
He wondered just how much Grandpa’s check was going to be when a deep voice startled him.
“I’m looking for a book.“
He’d not seen anybody come in after Tasha. Especially this tall, bald guy who looked like he walked off the set from one of those black-and-white scary movies his Grandpa loved to watch.
The man approached and placed a large, hairy hand on the desk. His fingers were very long and his nails were darkened with what looked like mold. His black clothes seemed to be weaved from very thick strands of coarse hair. His eyes were bloodshot and so dark that they seemed almost as black as his pupils. Purplish bruises rimmed his eyes and the sides of his mouth. A long, yellowed crooked tooth poked out, biting into his upper lip, and a rasping sound emanated from his throat with every breath he took.
“Don’t get nervous.” Mrs. Pianova’s words echoed in his mind as Thomas tapped on the keyboard.
“Hello, name of the book? And your colored tag please,” Thomas asked in a weak voice. The man clacked his jaw from side-to-side.
“This is the name.” The man extended an old piece of cloth to him with the words, Ludwig Prinn, Mysteries of the Worm, scribbled over and over again with what looked like dark oil. “I don’t need a tag.” The man continued and Thomas felt a tingling on his ear, he took the cloth. He probably didn’t need a tag just to search for the title.
As soon as Thomas finished entering the information an alarm went off and locks sprang from the doorframe, isolating the station from the hallway and making him jump to his feet.
Mrs. Pianova had not said anything about emergencies. The tall man slowly walked backwards toward a corner of the room.
“Don’t worry!” Thomas said. “Maybe it’s just a drill.”
The doors to the main library opened and Mrs. Pianova came rushing through carrying an oversized flashlight strapped like a rifle. “Who ordered that book?” she demanded.
“That guy!” Thomas pointed to the corner, but the man had vanished.
The flashlight lit up with an intense blue light, and Mrs. Pianova illuminated the corner were the man had retreated.
“Describe him!” she screamed as she changed a dial on the flashlight – the light cycled from blue to yellow.
“Tall, bald, long fingers and dressed in black,” Thomas said as he stood behind her.
As the light turned to a soft peach, they could see black tendrils retracting into the corner.
“Did he touch you?” she turned the flashlight toward him.
“No, but he left this.” Thomas extended the cloth to her.
“Leave it there.” She pointed at the desk as the alarms turned off and the locks disengaged from the door. Bolswaithe came rushing in carrying a flashlight like Mrs. Pianova, and right behind him Doctor Franco and a squad of guards appeared. They all carried large flashlights in addition to their side arms. The guards turned on their flashlights and spread along the station, illuminating every corner of the room and bookcases.
“Are you all right, Thomas?” the Doctor asked.
Thomas nodded. He’d never seen any armed guard inside the mansion, only workers and Bolswaithe. But the guards in the room seemed equipped for combat, including body armor and helmets. They could easily pass for a SWAT Team or a military squad. Their calculated movements also betrayed combat training; they moved in pairs covering each other as they swept through the station.
What had he gotten himself into?
“We had a request for an un-readable,” Mrs. Pianova said. “Thomas entered the information.” She then leaned in and whispered in the Doctor’s ear.
Thomas took a closer look at the flashlight Mrs. Pianova was carrying. It actually looked like a rifle. It had a battery counter on the side and a dial to change the color of the light. The thick muzzle ended in scores of little LED bulbs and it was activated with a trigger, like a real gun.
“He left you something?” Doctor Franco approached the desk.
“He gave me that cloth.”
“Please, Mrs. Pianova.” The Doctor extended a hand toward the cloth.
The librarian stood over it and tried on several of the glasses before she muttered, “De Vermis Mysteriis. Ludgiw Prinn.”
“Mysteries of the Worm,” Thomas corrected. “That’s what it says.”
“You can read this?” Mrs. Pianova asked. Her eyebrows rose. “All of it?”
Thomas approached the cloth and looked it over. “It’s just the same thing over and over again.”
The Doctor exchanged a look with Mrs. Pianova and the librarian picked up the cloth with a pencil.
“What else did the man say?” Mrs. Pianova asked.
“He just wanted a book, and when I asked him the name, he gave me the cloth.”
“Thomas,” the Doctor placed his hands on Thomas’s shoulders. “I need you to go home, get your grandfather and all your clothes, photos and everything else you feel specially attached to, and come back here.”
“What’s going on?” Thomas was getting scared. It was one thing to have a strange visitor and the armed response in his station, but now the Doctor was asking for Gramps. That could only mean that he felt that they were in danger.
He should have trusted his first instinct and turned down the job, or even better, never answered the ad. A knot formed in his stomach thinking that he had placed Gramps in danger.
“I don’t have time to explain right now, but I will once you get back.” The Doctor turned to the butler. “Go with Thomas, Bolswaithe. I’ll send Henri and Jean Luc as back up.”
“Yes, sir,” Bolswaithe responded.
“Don’t worry Thomas,” the Doctor continued with a smile. “Everything will be all right.”
Thomas wasn’t in the least reassured, but he followed the butler to the parking lot.
After a short trip in the limo, Bolswaithe escorted Thomas to his front door brandishing the oversized flashlight like a rifle.
“Would you like me to come in, sir?” Bolswaithe asked as Thomas unlocked the door.
“Let me talk with Grandpa first,” Thomas said. He stepped inside and closed the door. He leaned against the door and tried to catch his breath. His heart pounded in his chest. What was going on?
He breathed a little easier; at least the house seemed in order.
“Grandpa!” he yelled going up the stairs in large strides.
“Gramps!” He crossed the small corridor into Morgan’s room. The lights were off, but the T.V. was on, the news blaring. Grandpa usually left the T.V. on with the sleep timer when he went to bed.
As soon as Thomas entered, the door slammed shut behind him and a form in the bed stirred.
“Gramps?” Thomas asked. He inched closer, careful not to stir whatever was on the bed.
Suddenly, two tentacles shot from the bed impacting the ceiling. A slime-covered creature rose from the bed and tried to grab Thomas with two more tentacles, but he jumped back toward the door. A jaw ringed with serrated teeth opened in the middle of the bulbous creature – rows of green eyes blinked open.
Thomas yelled for help as the monster stood up on four stumpy legs and approached him. He tried to open the door, but the doorknob seemed to be locked from the outside. The monster opened its mouth wider to engulf him whole, and the smell of decay became overpowering. Thomas covered his nose, choking on the stench.
As the creature closed in on him, there was a sudden explosion of glass and wood as a winged creature entered through the window slamming against the monster. They fought, snarling, wings lashing the ceiling, tentacles slamming into the furniture, until they busted through the wall into Thomas’s room.
The door finally unlocked.
Thomas ran toward the stairs. Two more creatures slipped out from the shadows of a corner. These monsters had dark grey skin and incredibly long arms that ended in knife-like fingers. Their long pointed noses rose in the middle of two small and deeply sunken eyes, and their mouths opened in a wide ferocious grin.
One of the monsters reached out for Thomas and sliced his hoodie cleanly off with a large claw. Thomas looked at his arm and saw blood. He rushed down the stairs, looking behind him as monsters scrambled out from the shadows to follow him.
At the bottom of the stairs, he smashed into something and fell back on his butt. Standing in front of him was a dark grey devil. Its skin looked made of granite, and its leathery wings touched the ceiling. It was almost identical to the one that fought the monster in Grandpa’s room. With a massive claw, the creature grabbed Thomas by the shoulder and helped him up.
“Get to the car, Thomas.” Thomas recognized the voice that greeted him every day at the mansion. It wasn’t a devil, but the gargoyle.
The gargoyle interposed itself between Thomas and his pursuers, and punched, knocked, kicked, and slammed any monsters that got in the way. The gargoyle punched a monster in the face; the creature went through the stairs with a loud crunch just as another monster jumped on top of the gargoyle, slashing and biting into the granite.
Thomas didn’t stop to watch the fight.
As he reached the car, Bolswaithe had already started the engine. Thomas jumped into the back seat. They took off with tires screeching. “Your grandfather, sir?” the butler calmly asked as he sped down the road.
“He wasn’t there!” Thomas cried. He looked back at his house. He could see the silhouettes fighting through the windows and the walls buckling. “What were those things?”
“Adze trolls, sir,” Bolswaithe said. “Nasty creatures. Here comes another one.”
A troll emerged from behind a lamppost and jumped on the hood of the car, cracking the windshield.
“Grab the light-rifle, sir,” Bolswaithe said as he swerved the car left and right, trying to shake the troll off. Thomas reached for the light-rifle, but he was tumbling inside the limo.
The troll struck repeatedly at the armored windshield. It had stopped the troll from getting inside, but chunks of glass were torn with each strike. With one punch, the troll managed to get one of its claws inside the windshield.
“The light-rifle?” the butler calmly asked again as they turned the corner of the mansion.
Thomas finally managed to grab the oversized flashlight and aimed it at the troll. He turned it on but the monster seemed unaffected by the greenish light. Half of the troll’s body was inside the car and a scaly hand reached for Thomas.
“Turn the side dial, sir.” Bolswaithe used his right hand to grab the monster’s neck while steering the car with his left. The troll bit Bolswaithe’s arm, and a dark oily substance splashed all over the inside of the limo.
As he fiddled with the dial, Thomas watched in horror as the troll impaled the butler through the chest. The monster’s claws went right through the back of the driver’s seat. The limo swerved erratically.
Thomas frantically turned the knob on the light-rifle, flashing different colors in the troll’s hungry eyes. Finally, a yellowish light hurt the troll, and it shrieked in pain as his face began to disintegrate. The skin burned off and peeled like burning paper. A line of red-hot ember spread out from the face, consuming everything as it progressed through the body of the troll. The bone beneath became charred like coal and then exploded into a cloud of sulfur-like ash and dust and hit Thomas, choking him. As the troll continued to disintegrate inside the limo, he saw the ember line going through the arm, ending on the claws which had impaled the butler.
Thomas braced himself as the driverless limo crashed against the brick wall just outside of the mansion. He hit hard against the front seat, vaguely aware of guardian gargoyles forming a protective ring around the wreckage.
The last Thomas heard before fainting was Bolswaithe’s voice.
“Are you all right, sir?” he asked over and over again.
A History Lesson
Thomas opened his eyes. He was in a hospital bed. His head pounded, his body ached. What had happened? And then he remembered. Machines monitoring his health beeped.
“Are you all right, sir?” Bolswaithe was sitting beside the bed with his arms on his lap impassively looking at Thomas.
“You’re okay!” Thomas sat up amazed to see the butler alive and well. “I thought you were dead! I thought the troll had killed you!”
The room’s sliding door opened and Doctor Franco came in. He was wearing a long lab coat and a surgeon cap; the paisley cravat was still around his neck and the monocle hung loosely from its chain. He was carrying a long pink tube, which he handed over to the butler.
“Bolswaithe can’t die, Thomas,” the Doctor said. “Although, he was pretty banged up.”
“Thank you, sir.” Bolswaithe grabbed the pink tube and slid it into the right sleeve of his suit. There was a mechanical click, and then he pulled out his right hand from his pocket and attached it to the tip of his new forearm. He then tested the finger and wrist movements.
“Our design, Japanese parts, American assembly. We think the market will be ready for introduction around 2037,” the Doctor said,“but we are retro-fitting Bolswaithe with a tougher frame.”
Bolswaithe nodded.
“He’s a robot?” Thomas stared at Bolswaithe. The butler seemed completely life–like, down to the hair and the wrinkles and imperfections on the skin of his face. The tube the doctor had handed him was almost featureless, but the hands looked real – nails, cuticles, even the veins under the skin and the wrinkles on the knuckles were perfectly tailored.
“Not just a robot,” the Doctor corrected. “Bolswaithe is the robot.”
Thomas grabbed his throbbing head and felt a small bump covered with gauze. Monsters, gargoyles, and life-like robots just added to his headache.
“Grandpa?” he asked afraid of the answer. The tentacled monster had been hiding on his grandfather’s bed.
“I’m sure he’s alive,” the Doctor sighed. “The Adze trolls and the Voraxglobum weren’t there to capture you, but to kill you. That only means that the Warmaster already has him and you are expendable.”
The Cypher Page 6
