THREE
Michael was marveling at all the incredible things around the manor as Phoebe searched the Internet. The electric light absolutely astounded him. And he asked several times how they got the tiny musicians inside the radio. Phoebe eventually gave up answering his questions and concentrated on her search. As she did Michael began to look through some books lying in her room.
"Oh boy," said Phoebe after only a few minutes searching.
"Have you found something?" Michael asked, walking over to the computer. "This is a quite amazing apparatus. And you say it allows you to discern information from all over the world?"
"Yeah," said Phoebe. "If it's not on the Internet you can't find it."
"And you have found out something about me?"
"You could say that. According to this website most people know you by another name. Nostradamus."
"That would be the Latin rendering of my name."
"Yeah, well everyone knows about Nostradamus. He – you – are probably the most famous psychic in history. Some people say that your predictions about the future are uncannily accurate."
"That is not possible. As I told you I do not have visions of any significance."
"That might change. According to what I've found out you started publishing your predictions in 1555."
"Is your information accurate? I cannot see how I could have such accurate premonitions when I do not have them now. And I certainly would never publish them. As I said, such practices are punished with death. Dealing in the dark arts is nothing to be taken lightly."
"Well, apparently you wrote them in some kind of code. Wrote them backwards and in different languages. And you weren't really clear in a lot of them exactly what they meant. So some of them couldn't be deciphered until after the events occurred."
"That would make sense. If I were to publish predictions I would be accused of witchcraft. Only those in league with the evil one would have such an ability."
"Practicing the Craft has nothing to do with devil worship. And as I explained, witches are good. Warlocks are evil. We spend most of our time helping to protect the innocent and fighting evil."
"It is so much to take in. I still do not see how all this could be true. As I said I do not have this precognitive ability that you've described. I don't understand how I could suddenly begin having these visions you speak up."
"Maybe you're a witch," Phoebe suggested standing up from the computer. "Witch's powers can develop at different times. Maybe yours has just taken longer than most others."
"Entertaining the idea that I may be a witch is not a pleasant thought."
"Oh, wow," said Phoebe, putting her hand to her head. "Head rush. Guess I stood up too fast."
"Are you all right, young lady?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just dizzy for a moment, that's all. It's passed now. It happens sometimes when I stand up too fast. I'm fine."
Just then there was a creaking sound in the hallway outside. Phoebe turned and began to head toward the bedroom door. She hadn't taken more than a couple of steps when suddenly several men rushed into the room. They were all dressed in some type of military garb and were carrying weapons. As they rushed into the room they pointed the weapons directly at Phoebe and Michael.
"Don't move," said a man standing in the door. "You're trespassing on restricted property."
Phoebe just stared at the armed men.