Pt. 2
Gwen waited as the database's emblem, a capital letter L and a sword, appeared on her screen. She briefly considered reminding the Legacy's programmers that she hadn't changed her password in the last thirty days then dismissed the mundane fact from her mind. Gwen had been taught to use random characters for a password so not changing it in a set period of time had never proven to be a great breach to security. Not unless someone could figure out the unconscious path her fingers took the last time she devised her password. With swift fingers, she typed in the name of the document's donor and the name on the journal and waited. As the database processed her research request, she flipped through the notebook, which had triggered her Sight. There were sketches of flowers and other doodles and a few newspaper clippings. The journal entry was at the very beginning of the book, leading Gwen to believe there might be other such manuscripts that hopefully were in the same box – other documents to detail more about the sadness of the woman who had penned that entry. The sound of a car crashing (a sound she had insisted on downloading as a sign of a completed procedures) alerted her to the fact that the system was through with her search.
The search was comprehensive, pulling up everything the massive computer-system had found on Dr. Madigan and his connection to the Lord family. Madigan's ancestor had been a small town doctor in Lordsville, just a few hours down the coast from San Francisco. Sometime in 1882 that Dr. Madigan had received a bequest from a wealthy patient and had moved his family to the Bay Area, where his last descendent had resided until his death. The patient who had bequeathed the inheritance to Dr. Madigan had been Mercedes Lord. "Interesting." She thought to herself. "I think I'll have these journals checked out a little more carefully." She flipped through her Rolodex then picked up her phone and quickly dialed a number.
On Angel Island, the home of the San Francisco Legacy House, Nick Boyle was just coming in from his morning jog when the phone began to ring. He snagged the receiver as he passed it, signaling to the House's butler that he would not be needed. "Luna Foundation." He said, tossing his sweaty towel on a nearby chair.
"Nick?" a feminine voice asked. Nick smiled at the sound of that particular voice.
"Yeah, hi there Gwen. What's up in the world of archives?" he replied. It had been too long since he had spoken with Gwen Llewelyn, a member of the London Mother house who was on loan to the local diocese. The young redhead had been part of an investigation into the death of her cousin along with members of the San Francisco House, an investigation that had led to some sad revelations about members of Gwen's family. When the case had ended, Gwen had returned to her Archivist position, preferring to remain a free agent in the world of the Legacy, a decision that had disappointed Nick. He had come to like woman, especially as she seemed to have a more "normal" attitude about her gifts and their uses in the Legacy than many he had met.
"Something really strange has come up, Nick. I've got some journals here I need you to run an analysis on. Can I bring them over the Island in about an hour?"
"Now you've got me curious." Nick looked at his watch then ran his fingers through his damp hair. "Sure, but it'll just be you and me doing the analysis. Everyone else in my House is gone on assignment and Derek's locked himself in his office trying to do end of month reports for the Mother House."
"Not a problem. I've run these sorts of tests before when I was in the London House. Besides," she teased, "Didn't you always say you wanted to get me alone for a while?"
"Yeah, but not with a bunch of musty old documents between us." He replied lightheartedly. "See you in an hour."
"See you in an hour."
Gwen hung up and tossed the journal back into the box with the others than grabbed her coat and bag. She balanced the box on one hip as she made her way out of the office and out to the parking lot. The door closed behind her with a decisive snap, just as the door at the other end of the corridor began to slowly open.
