Drawing Bloodlines (20 page)

“A journey?” asked Nathan, abruptly. “All I see is a few random images. How
do you see a journey in that?”

Energetically, Jonathan stood up. He reached above the fireplace and took out a matchstick from what looked like an old gray tin or silver box. Swiftly, he ignited the stick and tossed it amongst the large wood logs that sat inside the blackened
fireplace. “See,” said Jonathan, the fire roaring to life. “The nicely dressed statue would be the start of the narrative, and the sword-carrying one would be the end.” Jonathan squatted again and then pointed. “And the three carvings in the middle would be the account of the story….”

“Or his journey,” finishe
d Nathan, rolling his eyes.

“Precisely!” exclaimed Jonathan.

Nathan shook his head, but kept a watchful eye on the carvings. The fire inside the fireplace crackled, flickering angrily against its blackened walls. On the face of the fireplace danced a plethora of fast moving shadows. Nathan could have sworn the fireplace looked animated, as if the three carvings were coming to life.

The first carving appeared to be the same man as in the statues, but he wasn’t at all dressed well. Now illuminated from the roaring fire, the man looked as if he was in a fierce battle against a dagger-wielding giant. Nathan thought it was very rem
iniscent of David and Goliath.

In the next scene, the man’s clothes looked worn and ta
ttered. He also wielded what appeared to be a dagger in his hand as he gazed into what looked like an enormous mirror. Nathan was surprised to see that the man’s reflection was that of a little girl and, instead of a dagger in her hand, she held a double-edged sword. “And how do you know all this?” asked Nathan, glancing over at the last scene. “I thought your dad didn’t want you researching the place.”

“Well, if you haven’t noticed,” said Jonathan. “I read a lot.” He laughed. “I’m sure I picked up a little bit about 19
th
century fireplaces while reading about something, somewhere.”

Nathan focused his attention on the last carving. He thought it was rather anticlimactic in co
mparison to the other two. The man was now depicted on his knees embracing someone, while several others appeared to be watching. Nathan found it at least somewhat interesting because he wondered who all the people were. “And what about the little girl in the painting?” asked Nathan, slouching back and staring at the space above the fireplace.

“Well, first off,” said Jonathan, springing to his feet. He sat on the armrest of the couch again. “I can tell you t
hat it’s an oil painting.”

“Ha, well, that’s obvi
ous,” said Nathan with a grin.

Quickly, Jonathan’s face turned red, but he then smiled. “From the looks of it, I’m guessing she’s about 6 or 7 years old,” said Jonathan. “And based on her clothes and the white bow in her hair, I’m going to say she’s from around the early 19
th
century.”

“The same as the fireplace,” added Nathan, looking around the room. He laughed. “And pr
obably some of this furniture.”

Jonathan smiled heartedly before suddenly drawing quiet. He now had an inquisitive look on his face and his mind a
ppeared to be somewhere else. “Right,” he answered slowly.

“So, whose idea was it anyway?” asked Nathan, standing up and taking a stretch
. “Who came up with the plan?”

“Do you have any guesses?” asked Jonathan,
returning to the conversation.

For a moment, Nathan looked con
templative. “Alan!” he blurted.

Happily, Jonathan nodded. “Yes!” he said, and Nathan chuckled.

“It all started with Alan because he wanted to go shopping.…”

“Of course,” added Nathan, looking around the room and then toward the conservatory.

Jonathan continued to nod. “Lafonda worked in the rest.”

“So, apparently, she’s still on lockdown at h
er parent’s apartment,” said Nathan.

“Yes,” said Jonathan, “
but I believe she’s trying her best to convince her mother to allow her to join us over here at the manor.”

Nathan stepped out from in front of the couch and stood in the area behind it. “Where is ev
eryone?” he asked. “In the conservatory?”

Jonathan stood up and nodded, but before N
athan headed toward the double wood-paneled glass doors, he noticed Jonathan was staring oddly at him. “What?” asked Nathan, sounding concerned.

“Uh, nothing,” said Jonathan, now clearly staring at N
athan’s hair.

“Ugh,” Nathan sighed, heading toward the conservatory doors. Jonathan followed behind him, but Nathan caught his reflection in the door’s glass before
opening them. “Oh, it is bad!”

The hair on top of Nathan’s head was as pointy as the comb on top of a red rooster. Quickly, he tried to flatten it with his hand. “How is it now?” he asked, feeling a little more confident
before walking into the room.

“It’s interesting,” snickered Jonathan, follow
ing behind him. Nathan sighed.

“This is utterly, completely, exponentially … extraord
inary!” Nathan heard someone say. Slowly, Nathan headed toward the elongated dark wood table that was located in the center of the room. The entire conservatory was surrounded by glass, including the ceiling. Nathan squinted as he tried to connect with the faces sitting around the table including the animated man that stood in front of him.

Nathan continued to squint as his eyes adjusted to the well-lit room. Aside from the extra su
nlight, he thought the room looked very comfortable and he was pleased to see the large reddish-brown couch pressed firmly against one of the glass windows. Nathan noticed that on the armrest of it, lay several coats, one of which he identified immediately to be his. “I know it’s a conservatory,” whispered Jonathan into his ear. “But, so far, mom’s only been able to keep alive that one fern.” He shrugged. “My dad’s sister, aunt Prudie, is supposed to come by and water it from time to time, but other than that, no one is hardly ever here.”

Nathan followed Jonathan’s gaze upward to the medium-sized potted plant that hung over the others, as they sat at the dark wood table. The edges of some of the fern’s leaves were brown, while other leaves were completely withered. Occasionally, tiny specks of leaves would break off and fall slowly to the center of the table. “Dad said Mom is still in India,” whispered Jonathan. There was a slight quiver to his voice. “They’ve never come back separately from a sabbat
ical before.…”

“Avery!” pleaded Dr. Colvers. He paused and quickly displayed a crooked smile after he n
oticed Nathan. “These kids,” he continued, pointing excitedly at him. “I never imagined in my wildest dreams that these secret societies — the Order — could be about real power! And I’m not talking about gaining influence over governments and institutions of leadership power, but actually real power — an organization made up of individuals with abilities that I haven’t even begun to understand!”

The room fell quiet as he turned to look at Avery again. Avery solemnly shook his head. Slowly, it appeared that Dr. Colvers tried to connect with the faces scattered around the t
able. Angela was seated closest to him and when he flashed her the same crooked smile, she appeared to squirm and look uncomfortable. “The impact of this discovery to our field — to science — would be astronomical,” he continued, placing his hands on his hips. He pointed to Sakiya Lee. “We have been studying secret societies for years, trying to prove their existence, their footprint on society. You can’t expect us to keep quiet about this, Avery.”

Nathan felt a twinge in his stomach, as if the ground had been yanked from underneath him.
Is he threatening to expose us?
He thought.

“On the contrary Dr. Colvers, he can,” said the slender man with piercing blue eyes that was seated at the head of the table. He had a stern look on his face and, absent of a pair of dark-rimmed glasses and a sharp-angled nose, looked like an older version of Jonathan. The man with the piercing blue eyes stopped to look at Avery, before dramatically clasping his hands in front of him. “What proof do you have? Your hard drive and your data has been destroyed.” Def
iantly, he turned to look at Sakiya Lee. “And the little proof you did have of the Order’s existence — including your research on the Firewalker prophecy — was confiscated by the blonde woman that attacked you in your office.”

“Avery!” cried Dr. Colvers. His small brown eyes qui
vered beneath his pointy dark glasses. “You wouldn’t…. You wouldn’t dare shut me out?”

There was desperation in Dr. Colvers eyes, but it was met with silence. Not a single word was uttered from anyone at the table. “I have dedicated my life to this!” he shouted, slamming his fist on the table. Angela and Alan flinched back and Angela almost toppled from her seat. Avery and Sakiya Lee’s eyes were wide and their mouths gaped open. “I’m sorry,” he said, after a brief moment. He removed his glasses, fo
llowed by a slow wipe of his brow. “I’ve lost so much studying these societies. I lost my tenure at Oxford because of this.” He stepped closer to Avery and took a deep breath. “And to think after all this time, you had some insight into at least one of them.” He paused, putting on his glasses and folding his arms. “And don’t think I don’t know what they say about me — my colleagues — my supposed friends. I guess ‘Crazy Colvers’ isn’t so crazy after all.”

Alan let out a slight snicker and Angela grumbled som
ething while rolling her eyes.

“Then it must all stop here,” said Avery, assertively, b
efore the man seated at the head of the table could get a word in. Avery nodded, ardently. “Yes, Cletus … everything.” Alan snickered again and Avery cut him a disapproving glare before loudly clearing his throat. “The blogs, the newsletter, everything pertaining to the Order.…”

“B–but,
Avery…” protested Dr. Colvers.

Suddenly, the side door to the conservatory swung open, causing the glass windows around the room to shake. It looked like the door was connected to an outdoor patio and, to Nathan’s surprise, in stepped Stephen Malick. Malick looked up and quickly put away his cell phone.
Who is he texting?
Nathan pondered to himself.

“You saw what happened today Cletus, and to what e
xtent the Order is willing to go,” continued Avery. “This goes beyond scholarly research. This is no longer about academics.” He paused, looking back at Nathan. “You don’t have the experience with that world — the Order — like I do. Believe me, it could have turned out a lot worse.”

Nathan watched as Malick casually leaned against the small wooden desk that sat not too far away from the co
nservatory’s side glass door. For a second, Malick’s gaze connected with Nathan. It was short lived, however, because he pulled out his cell phone again.

“Okay, Avery,” said Dr. Colvers, slowly. He turned to Sakiya Lee and she encouragingly nodded her head. “My newsletter and my blog are dismantled. They are permanen
tly on sabbatical.”

“That means you too, son,” said the piercing blue-eyed man se
ated at the head of the table.

One by one, all eyes fell on Jonathan. “B–but,
Dad,” he said. Jonathan had a confused look on his face. “My research says nothing about the Order.…”

“I’m sorry, son,” he confirmed, genuinely. “For obvious reasons, you know I can’t publish your article about the new Cahokia symbol or about the Legend of the Firewalker.” He paused to look at Nathan. “We can’t risk the Order co
ming after you again, or Dr. Helmsely.”

“Gregory is right,” said a familiar voice from behind N
athan. Nathan spun around and then smiled wearily. “We have to do everything possible to get you and the others off their radar — and publishing that article won’t do that. If anything, it might infuriate the Order.”

“Precisely,” said Grego
ry Black, grinning back at her.

Nervously, Nathan rubbed the back of his neck. He had a hard time keeping eye contact with the slender dark-haired woman that stood in front of him. “Hello, Nathan,” she said, firmly. She had a sarcastic look on her face. “Fancy meeting you here. What brings you to Lo
ndon?”

“Uhh, hi, Amelia,” stumbled Nathan. He cast his gaze to the ground, but regained his conf
idence. “I really am sorry, but — I can explain.”

“Don’t be too hard on him, Mom,” said Lafonda, ste
pping into the room from the main house. She closed the double wood-paneled glass doors behind her and the glass windows around the conservatory rattled again. “It wasn’t all his idea and, besides, we all made the decision to come to London together — to protect us.”

Angela perked up at the sight of Lafonda, causing her blonde curly hair to bounce freely on her shoulders. She was so happy that Nathan wouldn’t have been surprised if she started to clap. Lafonda smiled at her and then spotted Malick. Malick displayed a huge grin, immed
iately putting his cell phone away and straightening his posture. Lafonda responded by shaking her head.

“I don’t care whose idea it was,” grumbled Amelia, tos
sing her dark hair over her shoulders. Nathan thought her shiny black hair, and radiant brown skin, were almost identical to that of Lafonda. “It was completely reckless — and absolutely irresponsible!”