Chapter 52: Home Sweet Home Part 1
"Where have you been?" she demanded and pulled away from her amorous partner. "I was starting to get worried."
"Yes, you looked really worried," he snorted back. "I've been working, unlike you two lazy lumps."
"Did you find anything worthwhile?" John inquired and wasn't surprised at the smirk that appeared on the other man's face.
Pointing a finger at him, she warned, "That lump comment better not be in regards to my physical appearance, James Watson."
"My dear Helen, I would never make a derogatory comment about an expectant mother's physical appearance. I am a gentleman." He then winked at her. "All other times, however, all bets are off."
She laughed. "You're in a very good mood. Found something big, have you?"
"Several things, in fact," he answered and motioned for them to follow him down the central hallway. "The security system for this site, which by the way is weirdly still operational given how long it's been dormant; the city's library, which while a mess and littered with debris, is still in good shape; and an excellent map of the city with all of its important services and structures detailed," he easily rattled off as he lead the way.
Both of his companions lit up at the mention of a library. "There's something else," James teased them with as they made their way down two more levels. "You might recognize it."
John was reminded of Helen's beloved Sanctuary as they made their way. The exterior of the city that they'd seen earlier was rough and barren. Inside, the walls and floors were of smoothed stone that had been white washed and there was a definite order and symmetry to the place. And a certain beauty as well. There were carved niches with small inlaid mosaic works and ornate details carved into the walls. Whereas Praxis could be described as highly futuristic and sleek looking, Avalon was elegant and more aligned to a human scale.
Helen noted that much of the areas they'd moved through so far were in good shape with only some rubble and dust scattered about. She gave a small gasp of surprise as they approached a heavy wooden door with a highly polished frame and the word "The Library" in Latin to the door's right.
"Latin?" John said with a confused look. "I was expecting more exotic symbols such as we'd seen earlier. Latin's so ordinary… at least for the likes of us."
"There are symbols around," James informed them, "but Latin seems to be the main language used," he said as he pushed the massive door open and entered.
"Well, I suppose that's good for us," Helen stated with equal confusion as John. "The Praxian language was very difficult to decipher. We'd barely scratched the surface before I walked back into Victorian England courtesy of Adam and his time machine."
They stepped into the messy and littered library. Books and papers were scattered everywhere and the room looked as if it had gone through an earthquake. Watson walked to the far wall which had numerous tall, thin windows inserted and suggested they take a gander. The pair's mouths dropped open as they looked out. The side of the city they had entered had been slanted and bare. The side they were looking out onto now was terraced and spectacular. There had to be at least ten levels down and despite the damage they could see at the lower levels the view was breath taking in a beautiful haunted kind of way. The light color of the stone seemed to give off a soft glow and the quiet hush that surrounded them seemed as if the city were a sleeping giant waiting for the morning light to awaken it. Helen gave a little sigh and absently rested her hand on her stomach. Her baby would be safe here. The city curved around in a c-shape with the rough mountain wall closing it off to create a large oval center. Dim light flitted down from above and three stared up at the domed ceiling. On the lowest levels appeared to be trees, heavily overgrown brush and plant life and a shallow moving river that slowly snaked around the perimeter of the city.
"Is that light coming from outside the mountain," John asked as he tilted his head as far as he could against the glass for a better look. "There's no obvious holes in the ceiling but there must be holes to the outside somewhere."
"Something to explore," James agreed happily. At Helen's pointing to a series of thin pillared walkways that stepped down from certain levels James answered, "I believe those are aqueducts. Slimmer, more refined ones than the ancient Roman ones still in existence around Europe. I suspect the light above is coming from well angled tunnels cut into the ceiling to allow fresh water to come into the city." His surprised friends turned to stare at him.
"First Latin, now aqueducts," John remarked. "We're on the west side of North America. Why would the inhabitants of this place have such an affinity for things Roman?"
"Perhaps its founders were of European descent," the sleuth offered. "That might explain the name."
"Avalon?" Helen said. "I just assumed it was in deference to the Avalon of Arthurian legend."
A little smile pulled at the corner of Watson's mouth. "That's not what I was referring to." He stepped away from the pair and walked to a far corner that was in the worst condition. "I found a scroll sticking out under him," he declared as he nodded toward the bundle near his foot. "He was either trying to hide it in a hurry or protect it when the column collapsed on him."
"Him?!" the other two repeated in unison.
"Is that a body?" a shocked Druitt cried.
"You said there had been attacks on the city. There was bound to be bodies," James calmly remarked with a shrug. "I expect we'll find more on the lower levels."
Coming closer, Helen noted the faded beauty of the now threadbare robe the skeleton was wearing. "He must have been a cleric," she guessed.
"Or a powerful official," James countered. At her question as to the location of the scroll, James nodded towards the other side of the room which was in better condition. Seeing a scroll unfurled upon a large wooden table an excited Helen quickly crossed the room for a better view.
"This is amazing," John remarked as he looked over her shoulder. Stepping to the side, he moved closer and leaned forward. "How old do you think this document is?"
"At least 150 years is my guess," James noted. "We'll get a better idea after Lucy's had a chance to review it. My little darling is going to be gob smacked when she sees this place. I'm going to have a hard time convincing her to go back to school when her winter break is over."
Waving her hands around Helen wondered aloud "It's hard to believe this place isn't older."
James smirked. "Who says it isn't? This map was probably drawn up at a later date, after the city was well established and stable."
"What makes you say that?" Helen returned. She knew that look on Watson's face. It was his I know something you don't know look.
His only response was to point out a small red stamp at the bottom corner of the scroll's beginning. Helen's head whipped up to stare at him in surprise. He nodded solemnly at her. "Who was this Maximilian person again?" she asked.
James sighed and pulled out a chair to sit down. He was suddenly feeling his age and his legs needed to rest for a while. Dropping his backpack onto the table he pulled out his water bottle and took several deep swallows. Helen sat down in the chair John had pulled out for her and he sat down to her right and both waited patiently for Watson's response. They exchanged glances briefly, both thinking the same thing - that Watson's age was wearing thin on his lean body.
Sighing again, James sat back in his chair and stretched. "A few years after we started working with Gregory he was called away one night to a far corner of London. He was recovering from two broken ribs and had his arm in a sling and frankly wasn't well enough to travel."
"I remember that," Helen interrupted. "He wouldn't allow me accompany him and refused to tell me where he was going."
James nodded. "I caught up with him outside and insisted on accompanying him. He didn't like it but given his weakened state he was in no condition to argue. We set off in a carriage that weaved in and out of numerous narrow roads and eventually I became disoriented where we were going. Looking back, I think he did it on purpose and had his driver take side roads to confuse me."
"Sneaky," John murmured. "Sounds like Gregory to me." He tried to look apologetic when she shot him an annoyed look for slighting her father but she wasn't buying it.
"Anyway," James continued as he opened his bag of crisps and munched on one, "we ended up attending to a family of abnormals the likes of which I had not seen before. Or since really. They appeared to be mostly human until the light hit their eyes at a certain angle and the pupils took on a reddish tint. Similar to how Siamese cats blue eyes can appear red in certain light. I also observed that one had sharp canines when she argued vigorously with your father.
"So they were cat people?" John concluded with a little laugh. "Bet you wished you'd brought catnip with you."
"I think part vampire was more like it," James replied, shocking the pair. "Not in the pure ancient form or like Nikola but there was something about the way these people moved that was stealthy and dangerous at the same time. They made Gregory visibly uneasy." He paused in his recounting and raised an eyebrow at Helen and John as both stole one of his chips.
"Eating for two," she apologized as she savored the salty treat.
"And your excuse?" James demanded.
"Didn't want to be left out," John said with a shrug and circled his finger to denote the other man needed to speed up his story. "We need to locate living quarters before we can return to the cabin," he reminded the pair. "It's getting late. Get on with your story, old boy."
Annoyed, James continued with his tale. "It was obvious Gregory and the others were uncomfortable with my presence. He also seemed reluctant to help the family. I heard the mother hiss lowly that Gregory had to help them, that it was his duty given who he was. She then furiously mentioned 'the Seven Elders' and pointed to symbol on a framed text on the wall saying he owed it to Maximilian. That seemed to make Gregory angry and resigned to help them at the same time. It was very odd. I dismissed it at the time as being none of my business but looking back I think it was important."
"Important how?" Helen sharply questioned. She eyed his chips wanting more and gave him a little triumphant smile when he pushed the bag closer to her to grab another one.
"You need to have that child," he repeated. "You keep eating this way and you're likely to pop like a balloon."
"I'm working on it," she returned as she helped herself. "Perfection takes time. Now back to your recounting."
"The moment Gregory stepped into the room they seemed to defer to him, almost like he was royalty or the like. They kept calling him 'Sir' and bowed several times."
"They wanted his help," she reminded him. "They were probably being polite and showing him respect to encourage his cooperation."
"I think it was more than that," James shook his head. "Anyway, he requested that I wait outside, which I did for quite some time. Later, when we returned to the carriage I noticed that Gregory had his left hand in a bandage and was carrying the framed text, though he had tried to cover it was his scarf. When I asked to see the text he said it was just some old book page they had given him in exchange for his help. I kept nagging him about it and eventually he allowed me to see it briefly. He translated the first small section of the text which talked about the seven elders who were brothers that went on to do amazing things and established empires around the world. Maximilian was the oldest."
Brown creased, Helen pondered how her father and this elder person were connected. James could see it in her eyes and continued his story. "I wanted to take a closer look at the page. There was something special about it and your father's reaction to it piqued my interest." Pausing when John gave a loud snort, he waited for his old classmate to make a snide remark about curiosity killing the cat or mention his favorite appellation of "Snoopy Pants" to annoy him. No smart response forthcoming, he proceeded. "Early the next morning I quietly entered Gregory's office, after the housekeeper had assured me that he was still asleep upstairs. It wasn't like Gregory to sleep in but I had hoped he'd still be asleep given how exhausted he had looked the night before. I couldn't find it anywhere among his papers on or in his desk. I was about to begin looking through his bookshelves when I detected a faint smell of burnt paper."
"He burnt the text?" a surprised Helen asked. Her father loved old and rare texts. It was not in his nature to destroy things unless he felt them to be dangerous.
James confirmed with a nod of his head. "I found a tiniest piece of the document had escaped the fire. It was a section of the symbol for Maximilian."
"We keep coming back to old Max," John mused as he drummed his fingers on the table.
"Yes, we do," the other man agreed. "Which begs the question… what is his connection to Gregory Magnus?"
"Well, don't look at me," Helen answered. "I had never heard of Maximilian or the Seven Elders until today." She suddenly lifted her hand over her mouth as she gave loud yawn. "We need to find suitable living quarters," she commanded and yawned again. "It's getting late." Pulling the map closer she poised her finger over it and pointed to a section. "Let's take a look at this area." It was in the opposite direction of the library and two floors above.
"Alright," John nodded and went to stand up but halted when Watson held up a hand.
"Just one more question before we resume our task," he hesitantly said as he stared at Helen. "How old exactly was your father?"
Brows creased in confusion she stared back at him like he had two heads. "I don't know exactly," she answered slowly. "Father was considerably older than mum when they married, by at least 18 years I think. I guess he'd be about 202 years old now, give or take a few years. He always dodges the age question with a vague answer of 'Old enough.'"
"202 years old now?" James repeated and quickly sat upright. "I thought Gregory was dead. Helen…" he shook his head, "I mean the other Helen and I thought he died decades ago abroad during one of his exploration trips." He motioned to the room around them. "He was supposed to have done this what, sixty years ago? Which was around the time he was believed to have died."
"I did believe that," she assured him. "It wasn't until I found him in the warehouse used for illegal underground abnormal fighting that I learned he was still alive. He had no idea who I was or who he really was. The Cabal had brainwashed him using another abnormal to control him."
"The Cabal?" James asked and could tell by the hardening of both his friends' eyes that there was deep hatred for this group. "That's who is responsible all the upcoming deaths, isn't it?"
She and John exchanged glances before she answered. "Yes," she responded, "but you need to forget that fact for a time." She leaned in closer and placed her hand over his. "James, it's important you don't mention them or act as though you're too aware of the organization for the next three and a half years. We can't afford to tip our hand in case they alter their actions and become unpredictable. It's important that things happen the way we know them to if we want to have the upper hand when the time comes to save those that we can."
He didn't look too happy about it but nodded in consent. "Also," John added, "until we are able to revive you following Bhalassam we cannot answer your questions regarding what happened to me and how I recovered. It could be dangerous should Jack realize you know the truth and decide to eliminate you."
James noted that Druitt once again referred to "Jack" as a separate entity. Perhaps he'd had a split personality like Adam and Helen had somehow been able to integrate the two personalities back into one with John being the dominant persona in control. Course, that meant that Jack could always reemerge, despite John and Helen's assurances that that could not happen since he was on medication now. It gave him some concern for the Cutter children's safety. "Fine," he shrugged, "I won't ask or discuss about the Cabal nor will I ask about Jack. However, I do have one last question about Gregory."
"What's that?" a relieved Helen asked. Things had gotten a bit tense and she was more than happy to change the subject.
"You believe your father to be over two hundred years old," James stated seriously. "How is that even possible?"
"I don't know," Helen confessed sheepishly. "It must have been connected to whatever the Cabal had done to him."
"Or," John interjected, "he could have taken an alternate route like us by taking the Source Blood himself." When his companions turned to stare at him, he said, "Surely that thought has occurred to you over the years, Helen. You got the blood from him originally. You took it on the sly despite his hiding it and warning you not to touch it. Perhaps it was his secret to living so long, just like you. You both share the same genetic makeup and it is not unreasonable to think that your bodies would react in the same manner."
It was his turn to be surprised by the stunned look on her face which told him she'd never even considered that possibility.
"I have another explanation," James offered helpfully. "Is it possible he's one of these Seven Elders the abnormal family had mentioned? Is it possible he's related to this Maximilian?"
Helen sighed. She really didn't want to delve into the Magnus family secrets and turn up information she didn't really want to know. She was already suppressing the secret that Rana was her half-sister. "That's absurd. Father is not some centuries old mythical being." She forced herself to stand, thus bringing the conversation to an end. "As interesting as this discussion is, we really need to get moving. I have a nursery to create." Grabbing the map, she stomped out of the room.
The two men looked at one another and frowned in unison. Gregory Magnus was Helen's Achilles heel and something had obviously shifted between them following that meeting at John's cottage decades ago. They quickly got to their feet to follow her. "Either way, there's something off about Gregory," James muttered as they approached the door.
"Let it go, old boy," John said. "She's touchy about her father under the best of circumstances. In her current hormonal state she's liable to shoot both of us if riled further." They found her waiting at the end of the long hallway near a flight of stairs. Opposite of it was what looked like an elevator but none were too willing to test it out so they hiked the stairs. John noted that both the expectant mother and the retired sleuth looked worn and were in need of rest. Helen was starting to limp slightly though she continued to try to hide the fact that her feet were still swollen.
The Library floor was more of a communal space. The floors above, which were in much better condition, were sectioned off as private living spaces. They agreed that with a good cleaning and dusting the rooms could be quickly habitable. The floor above the library had a large dining hall and small attached kitchen on one wing and several rooms on the opposite end that could serve as living spaces and offices. Arriving at the top of the stairs on the next level they stepped into a large open space that could serve as another living room. A pair of heavy doors sectioned off the each wing from the central living space. The east wing had four bedrooms and three bathrooms. The west wing was half the size of the east but must have served as the master's quarters for the main bedroom was twice the size as one of the east wing bedrooms as was its connected bath. Across the hall were two other bedrooms with a shared bathroom which was located closest to the entrance of the wing.
As soon as Helen stepped into the second bedroom at the end of the hall she knew she'd found her nursery. The two bedrooms on this side had windows facing out into the center of the city and its many terraced gardens that were fallowed but could be revived. The view out these windows could be beautiful. The clincher was the window seat situated beneath two tall windows. Smiling to herself Helen wandered around the room mentally creating a shopping list of all the things they would need. The first of which would be cleaning supplies. As soon as they returned to the cabin she would be on the laptop searching for nursery furniture and bedding. A light paint color on the walls would work better with the room's small size and Helen suddenly pictured the walls washed in a soft fern green.
Standing in the doorway and resting against its framing, John watched her explore the space and mutter softly to herself. She didn't seem to notice his presence she was so engrossed in her task. He knew from the way her face was lit up that she'd found her nursery and had moved onto the nesting stage. James realized it too and gave the father to be a pat on the back before he wandered off to reexamine the rest of the floor.
Finally satisfied, she turned to find John silently watching her in the doorway, arms crossed and smiling goofily at her. "Ready to pick out baby stuff I take it?" he guessed.
"Yes," she happily answered as she went to wrap her arms around his waist. They both laughed as her bulging stomach prevented her from fully succeeding. "It's going to take a lot of work getting this space up to par."
"Whatever you want you'll have," he promised and kissed her nose.
"You remembered Golden Rule #1," she giggled. "I have trained you well, Grasshopper. Just keep in mind that all those rules apply for the first year of the baby's life too."
He gave her a playful swat on her bottom. "You're making this up as you go, aren't you?"
"I'm serious," she laughed. "Unless you want to be the one responsible for nursing our daughter."
It was his turn to laugh. "I am an abnormal but I am not that abnormal. Nursing is the mother's job. And you can in no way call me a chauvinist pig for that comment because it's completely biological."
She responded by resting her head on his chest and staring back optimistically into the room that would be soon inhabited by her little miracle. Everything was falling into place and she was confident that they could be moved into their new abode just in time for the baby's birth, which she felt would be within the next six weeks rather than the eight Dr. Lindstrom had predicted.
Unfortunately there's an old saying about the best laid plans going awry… as Helen would soon discover much to her dismay.
