Chapter 2
In a strong, clear voice, Lucas read out, "I was, so to speak, attenuated--was slipping like a vapour through the interstices of intervening substances!"
Like the Time Traveler in Wells' classic book, Isabelle heard thunder clap in her ears and a biting hail swirled around her as the world turned gray. She gripped Lucas' hand fiercely and looked up to find him laughing, his short hair whipping around in the icy precipitation. He lifted his chin and stared into the wind. When he caught her gaze, he grinned madly and she couldn't help the wild chuckle that escaped her throat.
As suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. Moonlight flooded the landscape and Isabelle gaped at their surroundings. They had arrived in a small, bush rimmed courtyard that seemed to be part of a larger labyrinth and was surrounded by six columns. The ground beneath their feet was cobbled with white stones and soft, yellow lights were emanating from what seemed like a thousand windows at the back of an enormous English mansion.
Lucas turned to find her goggling at the view and grinned. "You okay?"
She nodded mutely and he pulled on her hand. "All right, then. Let's go."
He led her on a twisting path to a rough wooden door. Without knocking, he turned the knob and stepped inside, instructing her to take off her shoes before realizing she wasn't wearing any. He suddenly frowned, taking in her pajamas and rumpled hair.
"I guess there's no help for it," he sighed, pulling her down a dark corridor to their right. The passages of the house twisted and turned. Upstairs, left, right, up two flights of stairs, left, left, downstairs. They passed countless doors and windows. Dark empty rooms and rooms filled with light and people of all ages dancing, reading, eating, fighting, and pursuing innumerable other interests Isabelle couldn't begin to describe. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. Eventually they arrived outside a honey-colored oak door and Lucas opened it, motioning her in ahead of him.
"Find something you like to wear. I'll wait out here and then we can go meet with The Professor." She gave him a wide-eyed, frightened look and he smiled. "Don't worry. I'll be right here."
Finally, she nodded and allowed him to close the door behind her. Looking around the circular room, she saw racks upon racks of clothes, in all shapes, sizes, colors, and patterns. There was a spiral staircase in the middle of the room, going both up and down, and she could see even more clothing on both levels. Though she was a bit intimidated by the mounds of garments, she quickly chose a soft two-toned blue dress and pale yellow shrug to go over it. For the first time, she was pleased that she had small breasts. There were no undergarments in sight, but the cut of the dress along with her petite size made her lack of a proper bra virtually unnoticeable.
There was a mirror hanging on the wall and she took a quick look, combing her fingers through her softly curling tresses to brush it into some semblance of organized chaos. He hair was normally a little untidy, she did it that way on purpose. To her relief, it settled down obediently.
Gathering up her folded pajamas, she padded softly back to the door, still in her fluffy house socks, and opened it, stepping out to find Lucas waiting patiently leaning against the wall on the far side of the hallway. He straightened and grinned when he saw her and reached out a hand for her clothes, slipping them deftly into his satchel. His dark eyes took a quick scan down her attire and he nodded his approval.
"You look lovely," he commented casually as he held out his hand. She stared at it for a second before looking up to find him grinning at her. He wiggled his fingers encouragingly and she gingerly slipped her hand into his, a warm flush creeping into her face. "You don't touch other people often, do you Isabelle?"
Her head snapped up at the question and she caught his friendly, quizzical look before dropping her eyes back to the floor. "I bet people don't touch you, either, huh? Except here," he murmured, reaching up to gently caress the light bruise on her face and causing her to practically jump out of her skin. In truth, she had forgotten the bruise; the row with her father felt like it had been months ago instead of mere hours.
"I had an accident," she mumbled as she pulled back, releasing his hand. She had never had to explain her bruises before and felt ridiculous for the lie. Lucas raised a single, skeptical eyebrow, somehow making her feel as though he knew the truth, which made her even more self-conscious.
Rather than contradict her, however, he held out his hand once more and said, "Let's go. We've a lot to do if I'm going to change your mind about me tonight."
She glanced up to find him regarding her in the same friendly way. He seemed unflappable; perfectly amiable to any situation. Thinking back, Isabelle realized that he always seemed to have a ready grin for her, regardless of her reaction to circumstances. It suddenly dawned on her that she genuinely liked him, though he was still little more than a stranger. A very strange stranger at that! Shyly, she took his hand once more and allowed him to lead her through the cavernous house.
After nearly a full minute, curiosity overpowered her shyness. "So... Lucas?"
He turned to her expectantly.
"What is this place? Who are you really? What are all these people doing here?" She stopped abruptly, her face heating. She had only meant to ask one question at a time, but there were so many buzzing inside her head like angry bees that three had popped out unintentionally.
Lucas didn't seem to mind. "This place is headquarters. I happen to belong to a very old and very secret society of monks."
"So... you're a monk?" she interrupted incredulously. She had to fight the urge to cover her mouth as her face flamed. She had never interrupted anyone before.
Grinning, he nodded. "Yes, but not in the way you think. The Order doesn't practice celibacy. It's just not very practical when you're a secret society. In your normal monastic traditions, stuffy old men always end up calling the shots and making the same mistakes over and over. This way there's a constant influx of new ideas and people. It's not perfect, but it works. We don't serve any specific god or religion, either. That cuts down on the need for recruiting. We started out as a small family group, chosen by a handful of powerful gods at the beginning of civilization, but we've branched out over the past several thousand years. Now, we're more of a liaison between humanity and the other-natural."
"Other-natural?"
He chuckled. "Well, you would probably call it the supernatural, but there's really not anything extraordinary about it when you realize that they've been around a lot longer than humans. Gods, demons, the Loch Ness monster, mermaids, aliens, ghosts, magical creatures, parallel universes, Bigfoot, faeries; they're all over. Most people simply don't see them. When something peculiar does happen, they think it's out of the ordinary and assume it's supernatural when in fact, it's just the way the Others are. Magic and powers are as natural as breathing to them."
Isabelle frowned, trying to absorb everything he had just said. It was a little far-fetched. "So, you said that your Order was started by a family group? Whose family? Who was the founder?"
"You've heard of Adam and Eve, right?" he asked cheerfully.
She gaped at him. "Are you going to tell me that the creation myth in the Bible is true? Adam and Eve founded your religion?"
He made a face as he answered her. "Well, it's not exactly a religion. It's complicated. I'll explain more later. In any case, you'd be hard pressed to find any myth that didn't have some element of truth in it. However, Adam and Eve weren't our founders. It was actually Steve."
"As in Adam and Steve?" Isabelle asked skeptically. "The fundamentalist's rhyme against homosexuality was an actual person?"
"People used to be more fluid in their interpretations of sexuality," Lucas explained lightly. "The general philosophy was 'If it feels good, do it.' Adam, however, was kind of wishy-washy and when he chose Eve over Steve... well, Steve took it kind of hard. It's not exactly like the myth, though because there weren't just two or three or four people on the planet and Steve eventually made a family of his own."
"With who? Dennis?"
Lucas smiled, appreciating her sarcasm before shaking his head. "No. Lilith. I'm sure you've heard of her in the Catholic version. Lilith was one of the lesser demons and she and Steve hit it off, both having been dumped by Adam. Needless to say, they had a lot to talk about."
They stopped outside of what appeared to be a set of elevator doors and Lucas pressed the button. Isabelle's incredulity was increasing exponentially and she took the opportunity to voice her doubt. "So, they got together and made a family based on their mutual dislike for Adam? Adam of the creation myth? This is ridiculous."
"You say that, but you're still here," Lucas grinned.
"Well, it's not as if I can just go home," she replied defensively. "I don't even really know where we are."
"It's just as easy to bring you back as it was getting you here. All you have to do is say the word and I'll take you home." Though his face gave nothing away, she knew he was telling the truth. She also sensed that he really wanted her to stay.
The doors slid silently open and she preceded him inside. "What happened next?"
There was that irrepressible grin again. He gently squeezed her hand. "Lilith and Steve had some children and eventually, they were asked to be... helpers to some of the gods. Because Lilith wasn't human, her kids had powers of their own. Powers over the elements. We've intermarried with outsiders over the years, but the capacity is essentially still there. Now we're pretty much like police- helping those who need it and stopping those who cause problems."
"Like whatever is in my book?"
"His name is Bue. He originally lived around the Gilbert Islands near Australia. He likes knowledge and he really likes to show off. At first, he was harmless. Helpful, even. Teaching people about navigating, building, divination- that sort of thing. But after a while, he started wanting to know more. It's not hard to guess how that quickly got out of hand. One of the members of the Order banished him to the Void, but some idiot in the sixteenth century decided he wanted all of that useless knowledge for himself and found a way to call him back through the book."
"So, why hasn't he gotten out before now?" Isabelle asked skeptically.
"He needs souls to do it. Virgin souls. Of young women," Lucas explained meaningfully. Isabelle blushed. "Most gods aren't that finicky, but Bue is arrogant. Each person who reads the book adds to his power. From what I saw in your bedroom, he didn't even need you to read it. He was going to take you. That means that you're the last one he needs."
"Why didn't he go after you..." she trailed off in embarassment.
"I'm not a girl," he answered. For the first time, she saw him blush. Something about that made her feel a pleasant queasiness in her mid-section.
Isabelle swallowed convulsively before realizing they had stopped. Outside the doors was a cavernous, shadowy hallway, lined with immense portraits outside a pair of tall oak doors. The golden wood seemed to shine and hum in the gloom and Isabelle felt a thrill of anticipation as Lucas put his palm against the wood and turned to grin at her.
"You're gonna love this."
With less force than she would have guessed was needed he pushed and the door swung silently open. Her breath caught in her throat and she squeezed his hand as they stepped inside. It was a library the likes of which she had never seen. On three stories, rows of bookshelves reached from the floor to the ceiling stretching out into the darkness on either side. Books of all sizes and colors crowded the shelves. The polished wooden floor stretched out before them an improbable distance, spanning at least the length of a football field if not more.
"It's so beautiful," she whispered breathlessly. In her eyes, each book was like a person. An old friend or a new acquaintance. Each had its own personality. Each had a story to tell. Her ears tingled. She could practically hear their voices calling out to her. Urging her to come read them. Her fingers itched to caress their time-worn pages. Her nose twitched. The whole room was filled with the smell of experience and wisdom, more overwhelming than any library she'd ever been in. Her heart hummed in delight, as though the very walls were imbued with special magic that resonated in each visitor.
"You see, we don't hate books," Lucas explained in a hushed, warm voice. "We love them. We take care of them and benefit from the wisdom they have to pass on. But not all books are good. Some books are just evil. The one you had would taint every book in here. Destroy any person who tried to read it. Its secrets are best lost to the ages."
She felt something akin to physical pain as she imagined these precious volumes wasting away. Ravaged by Bue for his own purposes. She could practically see the spirits of the books fading, crying out in agony as they were drained of vitality. Her heart wrenched at the possibility. Lucas tugged her hand gently, urging her forward and she looked up in time to catch his knowing look.
"Some of the world's best authors were members of our Order. We keep the original copies of their books here because they have power."
"What do you mean? Shakespeare and Wells and that sort?" she asked curiously.
Lucas chuckled. "Shakespeare wasn't even human, let alone a member of the Order, but Wells was. So were writers like Leo Tolstoy, Charles Dickens, Agatha Christie, Roald Dahl, J.K. Rowling-"
"J.K. Rowling is part of the Order?" Isabelle interrupted incredulously. She was making a habit of that.
"Well, she was until she got her book published. What most people took as a great work of fiction, others saw as a political critique. Some of the things she wrote ruffled a few too many feathers," he replied sheepishly. "But most of it really happened."
Isabelle stared at him. "That means, if I wanted to, I could actually meet Harry Potter?"
An uncomfortable look flashed across his face and he shrugged. "Well, no. See, he died after the final fight with Voldemort. And his name was actually Bertram Porter. But you can go to Hogwarts. That exists. Take in a class and everything."
Isabelle closed her eyes and thought for a moment, allowing him to lead her blindly down the isle. "So, what you're trying to tell me is that everything I've ever read is basically true."
He nodded. "That sounds about right."
"But how is that possible?" she asked, perplexed.
Lucas smiled and replied, "It's simple Isabelle. In the best lies, there's always a small kernel of truth. Most everything that's been written has some basis in fact."
"What about religions?" she countered quickly. "They all contradict each other one way or another. They can't all be true."
Sighing, Lucas reached up to rub the back of his head. "Yeah, religions are a bit tricky. Especially when you factor Chris into the equation."
"Chris?"
"Well, you've probably heard of him as Jesus Christ. He's a demigod who started the whole Christian religion, but he likes to play pranks. He also came as Joseph Smith, Muhammad, and the first Abraham. He doesn't really know when to quit. Makes a fantastic bean dip for parties, though," he concluded reasonably.
Isabelle frowned fiercely. "So, you're saying most of the major world religions were dreamed up by the same person showing up at different times in different bodies just to mess with people?"
"Swear to Gutenberg," he vowed seriously. She let the odd reference pass.
"That's terrible! People fight and die over religion. How could anyone do anything so horrible?" she cried fervently.
Lucas nodded in agreement, but said, "No one said it was right. He just has a twisted sense of humor. He's been strictly forbidden to do it anymore, though. And as penance he's been sentenced to live an entire lifetime as a regular human."
"Who is he?" she asked, curious in spite of herself. She figured he was just some normal guy she'd never heard of.
"Hugh Laurie," he laughed. "We should've known Chris would make the best of his punishment..."
"Why is his name Chris? That doesn't sound very lordly," she criticized.
"Well, his god-name is Cghene, but good luck getting worshipers to pronounce it. He loafed around Africa for a while before deciding to play some epic pranks on humanity in his other persona's. It's amazing how long it took for the Order to finally figure out all the chaos was his doing and nail him for it," he explained dryly.
"Who finally figured it out?" she asked reluctantly. It was inevitable that the name he would give would be familiar and she resigned herself to having her world split open just a little bit wider.
"Christian Bale."
"No!" she laughed.
To her surprise, he shook his head. "Nah, I'm only teasing. Christian's not good for anything much but being Batman these days. It was Jim Carrey."
She sighed and gave him an exasperated look. "You've got to be joking!"
"How do you think he did all that stuff in The Mask?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
"So, are all of the members of the Order famous or something?" she asked skeptically.
Lucas quickly shook his head and smiled, leading her out of the enormous doors at the back of the library into yet another long, gloomy hallway. "Of course not. Many of them live in humble obscurity like me. Lots of the Others are famous, though."
"Like who?" she laughed.
He stopped outside of the third door on the far side of the hall from the Library and put his hand on the knob, looking up into the air as he thought for a moment. "Oh... The Beatles, Charlie Chaplain, Nostradamus, Adolf Hitler, The Buddha, Mao Asada, Josh Groban, the current PM of Canada and the entire Russian hockey team in 1980 just to name a few."
Her surprised giggle was cut short as he let her into an extensive laboratory. Wooden tables were arranged in a neat grid across the dark floor and the white walls were full of shelves crammed with books, bottles, specimens, and other equipment Isabelle could only guess at. Lucas pulled her forward, holding her a little closer than before because there were other people in this room. They wore white coats over their clothes and many were milling about looking in microscopes, checking clip boards, scribbling notes, and carefully mixing liquids, heedless of their arrival.
Lucas took a step forward before he was confronted by a very beautiful, very petite girl in a pink dress. Her honey-colored blonde hair extended almost all the way to the floor, and her perfect brows were pinched together in a worried frown. An incredibly handsome man stood behind her, looking just as distraught.
"Hello, Ariadne. How is your treatment going?" Lucas asked kindly.
The girl tried to respond but could only manage an odd glugging noise before a shower of precious stones dropped from her mouth into her hands. Pressing her lips tightly together, her eyes filled with tears and she turned and buried her face in the handsome man's chest.
"Not so well, then?" Lucas concluded in a disappointed voice. "Sorry. We'll get you sorted. Don't you worry."
He tugged Isabelle's hand, whispering for her not to stare as he rushed her away. "What was wrong with her?" she asked quietly once they were out of earshot.
"She did a good turn for a wicked faerie who showed her appreciation by putting a spell on her. Now jewels fall out of her mouth whenever she talks. Horrible. I can't see why anyone would think that would actually be a good thing, but it used to be a really desirable christening gift for princesses. Still, it wasn't too bad because most of them didn't have anything too interesting to say to begin with."
"That's terrible!" Isabelle scolded.
Lucas glanced at her and smiled. "I'm only joking."
They slowed to negotiate their way around a pair of people talking and Isabelle looked over to see an enormous glass tube against the closest wall. It looked like all it contained was water, but suddenly, bubbles began floating up to congeal at eye level. She started in surprise as a face formed, but was immediately pulled back on track by Lucas.
"There was a- a face!" she whispered in shock as she stared back over her shoulder. The bubble-thing seemed to be watching her with three webbed hands pressed against the glass.
Lucas pulled her closer to his side and leaned over her head to speak in a low voice. "Don't stare- he's doing us a special favor coming here."
Isabelle whipped forward, but couldn't help glancing up at him. "Is he... an ocean god or something?"
Without warning, Lucas popped off: "What is it with you humans? Always wanting to stick a label on everything. Can't just be a god or a spirit, no... they've got to be the God of the River. Spirit of the Forest! Archangel of Really, Really Tall Things! Honestly! Hera helps one woman get out of a sticky situation once and all of a sudden she's the Goddess of Women. Aphrodite and Eros too, they're just a couple of daft teenagers and all of a sudden they're the Gods of Love. Why can't you people just let the Others be themselves and cower in fear of them?"
Isabelle was completely taken aback by the tirade, but wasn't given a chance to respond. Lucas looked up and grinned as he made eye contact with someone. Isabelle followed his gaze to find a small man in a white lab coat coming toward them. He looked to be in his seventies, though he still had a full head of silvery hair that was parted neatly to the side. His ears were so big and pointed that the tops nearly flopped forward, reminding her sharply of Yoda. He wore a red bow tie and crisp white shirt under his coat and she realized as he reached them that he was the same height as she was, though he was thin as a rake. His brown eyes were warm and kind as he smiled at them.
"Ah, Lucas, how nice to see you," he greeted in a pleasant British accent.
"Hello Professor. I got the book for you," Lucas replied with a ready smile.
The man's wrinkled face crinkled into a smile as he took the red volume in his hands and returned his gaze to the pair. "I see that's not all you brought back. Who is your charming young friend, Lucas?"
He quickly made the necessary introductions and Isabelle looked between the two quizzically. She didn't want to be rude, but the old man had simply been introduced as The Professor. Was she supposed to believe that was his proper name?
As though he could read her thoughts, the old man smiled and reached out to take and pat her hand. "Just The Professor, dear. There's no need for any name beyond that. Everybody knows who I am."
"You mean like The Doctor in Doctor Who?" she asked bemusedly.
To her surprise, The Professor gave her a delighted grin and patted her hand sharply. "My, she's clever. We'd better be careful around her, Lucas, or she'll have all the secrets of the Order out of us before long."
"Sydney Newman and Russel T. Davies were two of our members," Lucas explained in a low voice. Isabelle bit her tongue. She didn't want to ask if The Professor was a Time Lord. In spite of everything she had heard, that seemed too outrageous. Besides, she was worried about what sort of answer she might receive.
Shuffling to a nearby table, The Professor gingerly laid the book on the wooden surface and turned to them with an enigmatic grin. "Well, children, who wants to see what happens when you collapse an inter-dimensional portal?"