The Daykeeper's Grimoire (19 page)

“And in all those years he’s never returned?” I ask, mesmerized by her story.

“Not that anyone has been aware of. But,” she says looking at me sideways, “the books he took were two ancient Sanskrit texts.”

“Oh my God! Do you think Donald is back? That these are the books he stole?”

She puts her arm around my shoulder. “I don’t know dear. But when you told me what happened, all I could think of was Donald.”

“Is he crazy? Would he hurt us?” I ask.

Instead of answering my question she says, “You know what? I’d sure feel better if we had Hans, my German shepherd, here with us tonight.”

She stands up and goes to the phone. “I’m sure Alex won’t mind bringing him out, what with having the night off and all.”

I wince when I hear his name. He definitely wouldn’t want to do
me
any favors. She dials a number and speaks quietly; Alex must not have put up any resistance because she quickly hangs up the phone.

“You’ll love Hans. He looks vicious but he’s a sweet, sweet creature.”

When I was a kid I saw an animal show about wolves taking down a huge moose and since then I’ve been afraid of dogs. It shocks me that people let these animals that are capable of total savagery sleep in their beds. However, tonight I am thrilled to have a savage on my side.

While Mrs. Findlay prepares for breakfast, I play a couple of games of solitaire with her cards. I’ve only ever played solitaire on the computer and it’s kind of nice to play it in real life. I like the snap of the cards against the table as I lay them out and the way they never stay completely straight in their rows. Lost in the game, I don’t realize how much time passes before the kitchen door swings open and a huge German shepherd runs in. Mrs. Findlay bends down to greet Hans and slips him half of a sandwich, which he swallows in one gulp without chewing. Mr. Papers has crammed himself as far back as he can inside his cubby; this would be like me encountering a grizzly bear or something.

Alex walks in and sits next to me at the kitchen table. I keep looking down, ashamed and embarrassed by what I’d said to him about his father. While Mrs. Findlay is distracted by the dog, Alex taps me on the shoulder and mouths the words, “I’m sorry.”

I put my hand to my chest and whisper, “No, no, it was my fault. I’m
so
sorry.”

He takes a napkin from the dispenser on the table and waves it like a surrender flag. I do the same. My heart feels like a chocolate chip on a hot cookie sheet.

When Mrs. Findlay looks over at us he puts the napkin down and says, “So you girls need a bit of protection tonight?”

Mrs. Findlay scratches Hans behind the ears until his whole body shakes and says, “Don’t be silly! I just thought Hans would be a bit lonely without me.”

Once Alex is loaded up with a basket of cookies and scones, Mrs. Findlay sends him on his way, bolting the kitchen door behind him. I follow her and Hans to the guest room off the kitchen that used to be a servant’s quarters. I’d always thought it was so depressing that there weren’t any windows in this room, but now I’m glad there’s only one way in—through the door that I’m locking.

There’s no way I’m going upstairs alone, so I decide to sleep in my T-shirt. Mrs. Findlay disappears into the small attached bathroom and comes out wearing a long white nightgown. She pulls down the covers on one of the beds, gets in with a big sigh, and says, “Ah, lovely.”

Despite my fears, as I look down at Hans lying on the cold floor I feel the urge to have him on the bed with me.

“Mrs. Findlay?” I say quietly. “Would it be alright of Hans slept on my bed?”

Mrs. Findlay makes the
tsk tsk
sound but then looks at my pleading eyes and shakes a finger at Hans. “Only tonight, mister.”

I get in, pull the covers up, and then pat the foot of the bed. “Come on pal!” I say, and Hans hops up gingerly, as if he knows he’s doing something he shouldn’t. He looks over at Mrs. Findlay and she nods. “It’s okay, boy,” she reassures him, “it’s okay.”

I roll over and fall deeply to sleep with my toes tucked under the weight of the big savage.

Awakened by the sounds of Mrs. Findlay in the kitchen, I roll over and bury my face in the pillow. I don’t feel like bouncing out of bed yet. Hans’ nose is twitching like crazy; when he can’t stand it anymore, he hops off and trots into the kitchen. His toenails make an interesting noise on the tile, like a million tiny high heels clickity-clicking.

I follow Hans and pour a cup of tea while toasting two slices of bread. Passing the big cast-iron pan of bacon, I can’t resist pulling out a couple of pieces to slip between my toast, sandwich style. I walk over to Mr. Papers’ wood cubby to check on him, but because Hans is in the kitchen, he’s backed himself as far back into his little space as he can. “Here Hans!” I yell as I toss piece of bacon and open the side door. As soon as the meat is launched in the air, Hans runs out and catches it like a Frisbee and I quickly close the door.

Mr. Papers finally emerges and hops on my shoulder. By the time we get to my room, Bolon is already there sitting in one of the leather chairs.

“Good morning, Caity,” he says.

“Hello Bolon,” I reply as I walk over to the chair next to him. Mr. Papers hops on back of the chair that Bolon is in and then climbs up his shoulder and then onto his head. He just sits there as if he is a monkey hat, with his tail curled around himself like he’s settling in. Bolon doesn’t even seem to notice.

“So where are you staying, anyway?” I ask.

“Oh, just a little place in town.” Then he leans forward in his chair and says, “Today I would like to discuss the specifics of your role in the unfolding of this plan.”

“Finally!” I’m good with specifics.

“I’ve brought you this,” he says as he hands me a CD. “It’s one of the Mayan calendars; the one for the human cycle, called the ‘
Tzolk’in.
’”

“Wow, thanks!” I say, surprised that Bolon even knows how to burn a disc. “Zol-keen? That’s how you pronounce this?” I ask as I look at the word
Tzolk’in
printed on the disc written on it.

“Yes. It’s a Mayan word that can be translated as either ‘Count of Days’ or ‘Pieces of the Sun’.”

“Pieces of the Sun,” I repeat. That’s beautiful.

Bolon says, “The
Tzolk’in
is one of the twenty Mayan calendars explained on this disc. It will help synchronize your youth, help ease the transition that the world is going through.”

“Seriously?” I say. “Can a calendar really matter?”

Bolon closes his eyes for a moment as if I have just personally insulted him. “The calendar is the
center
of any civilization. It’s the agreement we all make about
what time is
. The
Tzolk’in
is a different kind of agreement.”

I’m trying to hide it, but Bolon sees that I still don’t buy into a calendar as this huge and radical change-maker.

“Your calendar was devised by a Pope for religious and agricultural reasons. It has nothing to do with humans and our particular cycles. A serious error in time happened when Western Civilization decided to view time as a straight line heading into the future, rather than as a cycle.”

“So you want me to somehow make everyone start using a different calendar?” I ask.

“Not everyone, only those who are ready. But you will be shocked by how many people, especially people your age, will embrace the
Tzolk’in
.” He looks at me like he’s deciding whether or not to say something before he continues. “There will also be many who deny what you say. Some will be working for the Shadow Forces and will want to put out your light, some will just ignore you. Remember: it is not your job to
convince
anyone.”

I’m relieved to hear this. “Good, because I had a hard time even selling Girl Scout cookies, and if you’ve ever had a Thin Mint you know those things practically sell themselves.”

“This is not a product—it is a highly sophisticated synchronization tool,” Bolon says. “Do not come to this as a warrior or a salesperson; come to it as a flower opening to the sun. Walk away from those who are not open or those who align with the Shadow Forces.”

“Every time you mention the Shadow Forces you scare me,” I admit.

“The Shadow Forces want people to remain off balance, put off-kilter by mechanical time and chaos, so that people are easier to control. When you are balanced, it’s more difficult for someone to push you over, yes? Stay balanced and you will not be controlled; stay soft and openhearted and evil will have nothing to oppose.”

Didn’t Uncle Li use that same line? I hold up the CD. “So I give this away to anyone who wants it? Like shareware or something?” I ask, trying to define my actual job.

He shrugs. “How you distribute it will be up to you. The most important thing is that you must make it
resonate
with people your age.”

“Resonate?”

“Yes,
resonate
. If you do not make it resonate, it will be like handing out books to a blind person; it will mean nothing.”

We both freeze when Mom’s voice comes over the intercom. “Caity, we’re home!”

“We’ll continue this talk later,” Bolon says. “There’s one more thing you’ll need to do.”

“I hope it’s easy; this is starting to sound like a full-time job,” I say.

Bolon laughs. He says, “I’ll find you later,” and walks out the door.

When I get to the kitchen, Mom runs over and gives me a huge hug. “Oh, Caity, I just had the weirdest feeling about you yesterday. I know it’s probably because we were stuck and I couldn’t get to you, but I’m still glad to see you.”

As she’s hugging me I wonder whether she picked up on my vibe while Uncle Li and I were locked in the tower. God was that just yesterday?

“So how was the big tour?” I ask. “Were any of the guests upset?”

“We might just fake a bus breakdown with every group—they
loved
it!” Dad says.

“So Thomas came out and rescued you guys?” I ask. I’m dying to find out where he is and talk to him about his brother. “Is he here now?”

“Thomas saved us. He picked up the part we needed and brought it out,” Dad says. “We told him to take the day off, after all his help. Why, do you need something?”

I shake my head. Dad musses up my hair like I’m a six-year-old and I shrug and duck away from him.

“We’ve had an overwhelming request for fly-fishing today,” Mom says, cheerily. “Want to come?”

“No thanks, I’m good here. Uncle Li is teaching me so much about feng shui.”

“Angus, aren’t you proud of how we raised such an independent girl?”

They have no idea just how independent
, I think to myself.

Mom hugs me again and then she and Dad go to the parlor to join the guests.

When I get to my room I check out what’s on the
Tzolk’in
disc from Bolon.

The Tzolk’in

(Pronounced
Zole-keen
)

The ancient Maya knew that humans have a specific rhythmic cycle, which is why they devised the Tzolk’in,
a 260-day calendar that has 20 months of 13 days.

Each day has 1 of 20 energies (pictures) and 1 of 13 forces (numbers). The combination of the number and the picture tell you what to focus on that day. For example, a day called 8 Imix (pronounced ee-meesh) would look like this:

Imix represents creation, or beginning, and is a great day to start something new. The number 8 brings the force of integrity, so whatever you begin with, have honest energy behind it.

Though deceptively simple, the Tzolk’in is a highly advanced DNA synchronization tool that reconnects humans to the natural cycles of the universe. Like a room full of tuning forks, if you strike one the others will resonate without even being touched.

Sounds interesting, kind of like one of those daily meditation calendars. I scroll down to see how it works. It looks like a regular calendar, but there’s a number and a picture and a word on each of the days in addition to the normal date that we use. At the end there’s this key to the thirteen numbers and the twenty pictures so you can look up the deeper meaning of each day. I print out the whole year so I can use it myself and see what it’s all about.

Now for the web. I start by securing the web domain www.mayatwentytwelve.com that I register to “Bolon” in the Bahamas, and pay for from my PayPal account. I put up the basic info about the
Tzolk’in
on the top of the page. There’s a formula for how to figure out what your birthday is, so I whip out a JavaScript calendar converter and embed that into the page as well because just like with horoscopes, everyone wants to know how the day they were born is different. Then I use the calendar engine to generate which of the 260 day files comes up, depending on what day it is when you check the site. It’s no design winner, but a pretty serviceable website, if I do say so myself.

I decide to send the link to Justine, just to see what she thinks of it. I still have the email addresses to everyone at school, so I could send it out to a huge group if I wanted to, but I’m afraid to pull the trigger until I get some feedback.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Ever heard of the Tzolk’in?

Hi J, I know this may seem totally out of the blue, but check this out. It’s an ancient calendar created by the Maya. They were amazing astronomers way before anyone else even had telescopes. Anyway, I just started looking in to it and it seems pretty interesting. Let me know what you think …

PS—Still have not heard about date with David von Shopping. How was it?

I spend some time tweaking my website, then I hear my new mail chime.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Ever heard of the Tzolk’in?

Weird! You know how when you learn a new word then all of a sudden you hear it like fifty times a day? Just yesterday I was in that coffee shop we used to go to in the Haight to pretend we were in college, and I was eavesdropping on this trippy conversation about Mayan people and how they have a calendar that predicts something or other to happen in 2012. And then you send me the exact thing they’re talking about! How freaky is that? I printed it out and will use it every day. Is it okay if I forward this on? My cousins Chris and Jeff would be so into this. I’ll totally give you the cred, of course.

David was kind of a gentleman for the first time ever. After shopping we even ate lunch at this little cafe and A) he didn’t throw any food at me and B) he actually paid although all I had was a scone and a mocha cuz I was too worried about getting sandwich or salad stuff stuck in my teeth.

I’m a little surprised at how easy that was. Maybe Bolon was right; maybe people will be into this thing. I email her back.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE: RE: Ever heard of the Tzolk’in?

So all of a sudden he’s David von Manners? Sounds suspiciously like he is totally and completely in love with you … More details puhleeeze. Freaky that you had heard of this Mayan thing! Send it to whoever you want, apparently the more the merrier. Maybe the two of us can change the world! Ha ha. I might just send this to everyone at Cruelties, too. If you get a weird email from an unknown source at your school email address, you’ll know who it’s from … Heart ya. Caity