Hey Readers! If you haven’t already, be sure to check out other posts here to read previous chapters of The House On Astor Street. Enjoy!
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The nightmares started that night. From then on, Jason found himself startled awake each morning, vividly remembering what he saw like it was real, like it was tangible. He would wake up to Patriot looking directly at him, standing no more than a foot from his head. He would be sweaty and out of breath, his heart beating out of his chest and his mind racing. Most times, he would wake up with a stomachache of swirling heat in his core, something that scared Jason because he wasn’t sure what he might accidentally do in his sleep, should his dreams become more intense.
They all started out the same. Jason would be walking up Astor Street, all the streetlights off, windows dark, the moon hidden. The nights would be cold and dark, windswept and silent. Besides the rattle of leaves somersaulting down the street and sidewalk, and the trees moaning quietly as their giant branches swayed in the wind, there were no other sounds.
When he would arrive in front of the mansion on Astor, a figure would streak across one of the massive windows, drawing him in. He would fumble for his keys and would hear a familiar voice call his name from inside. Sometimes the voice was a man’s. Other times, it was a woman’s. He would push the large, monolithic door open, freeing a rush of cold air that collided with a swoosh with the wind outside. His feet echoed on the now colorless, empty vestibule floor.
“Jason?”
He would hear his name again, being called from upstairs. All the foliage, the art, the pictures that usually welcomed guests were no longer there. The wood didn’t shine, the marble wasn’t polished, the hues of the paint didn’t show. A heaviness swept through the halls that dampened the air and made him sluggish and lightheaded. He would march slowly up the stairs, intently listening for any semblance of a noise. On the landing, he noticed blackness creeping up the stairs, blocking his way back. He would continue on, down the only hallway that appeared before him.
Eventually, he’d find light at the far end of the hall, peaking out through a door, slightly ajar. Cold air rushed from the room down the hall and into Jason’s face, chilling him as he moved closer. He would push the door open, slowly, until the scene revealed itself to him. A figure in a hooded robe stood at the foot of a large bed, their arms stretched out wide. Blood red ribbons of mezmora flowed violently from the palms of their hands towards their victim.
Suspended in the air, mere feet above the bed would be one of the members of the Harcava, one of his friends, one of his coworkers; it changed every time. The ribbons would be tightening around the victim’s ankles, wrists, torso and neck, slowly draining the life out of them. As Jason would stand there, horrified, sick, and in shock, the hooded man would turn to him with a thin, sly smile, and pull his hood back. That’s when Branson Maledu would reach towards Jason and say, “Ah, now I’ve found you.”
After several sleepless nights and sluggish days, Jason sat up in his bed again, dripping in sweat and clenching his burning stomach, wrestling with the idea of bringing his nightmares up to Margot. He knew that she had similar experiences herself and remembered that hers materialized as omens of the eventual death of her grandmother, his great-grandmother. Fear overtook him as his mind raced with the idea that he was having visions of the impending deaths of everyone he knew and loved. He was restless and knew he couldn’t sleep any longer, so Jason threw his blankets off and hopped out of bed. He put on a shirt and some sweatpants, then checked his phone. Six in the morning.
He squeezed out of his door and tiptoed down the hall, past Ryan and Michael’s door. He could hear the soft music from a record player drifting down the hall from the library. Jason recognized it as Beethoven’s Symphony Number Nine, one of his father’s favorite classical pieces. He peaked around the corner of the opened door and saw Margot hunched over a pile of old leather maps. He knocked gently on the door and she looked up with a soft smile. “Jason, honey, what are you doing up so early?”
Jason was just as surprised to find Margot up so early in the morning as well. She looked well rested and was already completely dressed in an bright summer dress, complete with make-up and, from what Jason could tell, a hairstyle that looked like it took some time to create. “Hey mom… er… Margot.” He walked in slowly, his bare feet smacking lightly on the marble floor. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Margot pulled her hands off the desk she was leaning on and stood up straight. With a cocked head, she asked cautiously, “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah! I mean…” Jason cleared his throat. “You remember how you told me about those nightmares you used to have. The ones about your grandma?”
Margot’s shoulders sagged with empathy as she answered Jason’s question with her own. “Have you started to have nightmares?”
Jason proceeded to explain the nightmares to Margot and detailed how he saw a different victim every night. He told her he had seen Branson the other day when he went for coffee with Emma. Margot’s reaction told him that this outing had been a mistake, but it was too late to argue about it now. He explained to her that he felt like he was being haunted by him and, ultimately, how he was terrified that Branson and the Devitors were coming for everyone he knew.
Margot did her best to comfort him, but she knew that people like Jason, like her, with strong connections to their mezmora and abilities, often had visions of the future. These weren’t visions that could be sought out and voluntarily visited, but often materialized in deep states of subconsciousness, which is why Jason was seeing them in his sleep. Nevertheless, Margot knew the Harcava needed to devise a plan quickly to deal with the growing threat that was Branson Maledu.
Margot had Jason follow her to the table near the fireplace with the old maps splayed on it. She sifted through a couple worn leather corners before she found the map she was looking for and pulled it out of the pile, tossing it on top for Jason to see. Written in the bottom corner of the map was the name Robicheaux. Jason recognized the name as Margot’s friend Renaud’s surname. He leaned in closer, studying the cartographic stylings in front of him. Glancing at the top of the map, he read “Cordes-sur-Ciel, France.” He looked up at Margot, confused. She smiled slyly and asked Jason to stand back a couple feet.
She balled her hands up over the center of the map and slowly drew them apart. A tiny silver ball of mezmora floated down, landing in the center of the map. Slowly, the geographical details began to rise, like a 3D hologram, only, these were tangible to the touch. The entirety of the map looked like a scale model, expertly precise and detailed. As the topography continued to populate with rolling hills, thin streets and beige stone buildings, a mound in the center grew into a small mountain, eclipsing the surrounding countryside. In minutes, the mountain was covered with buildings, gardens, village squares, and cobblestone roads.
“What is this?” Jason stuttered. He couldn’t look away from the scale model map in front of him.
“This is Cordes-sur-Ciel, France,” Margot said. “Home to my dear friend Renaud Robicheaux. His family has lived in this small town for centuries and he’s one of our strongest allies in the region.” Margot looked over at Jason, “Listen to me, honey. If anything happens, you need to know where it’s safe to go. Our Harcava has long had these safe houses around the world and these maps reveal their locations.”
Jason watched as Margot flipped through the dozen or so maps on the table. Margot continued, “To the untrained eye, these are nothing more than a few dusty old maps of cities around the world.” She lifted her palm towards the map of Cordes-sur-Ciel, producing a tiny silver strand that dove onto the streets of the miniature town before them. It raced up a hill and into an alley before disappearing into one of the structures. Seconds later, the windows pulsated with a silver glow. Margot tapped on the roof of the building with her finger, causing it to expand, as if zooming in on a computerized picture. Slowly, the building quadrupled in size and the roof disappeared, giving them a glimpse into the layout of the structure, similar to a dollhouse. Halfway down the second story hallway, a door glowed the same brilliant silver as before. “And that is your flash tunnel.”
All Jason could muster was a weak “wow” as the silver light glistened in his eyes.
Margot produced another silver ball of mezmora and dropped it again in the center of the map. It streamed down the tiny streets and into the small valleys and roads that covered the map like a series of veins. The silver cut through the three-dimensional topography, splaying out over the rolling hills, slowly enveloping the now flattening details, returning the map to its previous form. She took a step back and said to Jason, “Go ahead and give it a shot.”
He looked back at Margot, surprised, yet confident, “Umm.” He cleared his throat, “Okay…” He sifted through the first several maps, landing on a purple tinged corner with the name Glickers scrawled along the bottom-right corner. He pulled the old map out, surprised at the weight of the parchment. He placed it on top of the pile and read the city name etched into the top border “Palm Springs, California.”
Jason studied the myriad of browns, yellows, grays and whites splashed before him. He noticed two dimensional jagged lines jutting off from a smooth valley that ran diagonally from the top left corner to the bottom right corner of the map. In the center of the sandy valley was a small grid composed of streets, golf courses and an airport. Otherwise, Jason realized, there wasn’t much there.
Jason looked at Margot, who nodded encouragingly. He looked back at the map and centered himself. “Be deliberate,” Margot said softly. “Tell it what you want it to do.”
Jason held his enclosed hands over the center of the map, took a deep breath, and slowly opened them. A tiny, marble-sized ball of silver dropped onto the map. It landed on the surface and seemed to get absorbed into the parchment, then, nothing. Jason stared down at where the mezmora disappeared, while Margot looked over his shoulder eagerly. Just as Jason’s shoulders slouched in defeat, rugged, rocky, mountains shot up around a thin sandy valley. Desert foliage sprouted on and around the sharp mountains, while hotels with their artificially maintained lawns rose at dizzying speed. In less than five seconds, the entirety of the Palm Springs map expanded into its three-dimensional, heat drenched beauty.
Bringing the map to life in less than a tenth of the time she did it in, Margot laughed and said to Jason who was staring at the tiny city, “Why am I not surprised?”
Jason, still grinning with a sense of accomplishment turned to Margot and threw his arms around her. She hugged him proudly before, with a flick of her wrist, she produced a silver strand of mezmora that collapsed the sand swept landscape of the Palm Springs map. With another gentle motion, she aimed a pale lavender spear of light at the old pile of maps. Jason watched as they rolled themselves into a tight bundle, fastened together by some invisible binding before floating off towards a pillar built into the bookshelves on the opposite wall. Jason watched with fascination as the parchments floated up towards the top of the thick wooden column, hovering in front of one of the intricately carved feline faces that adorned the top of each pillar throughout the room. The eyes of the carving glowed a soft lavendar, identical to the color of the mezmora Margot used to bind the maps, before the carving’s mouth elongated with a grown, allowing the maps to be deposited before closing again as if nothing had happened.
Jason turned towards Margot, amazement dancing in his eyes, “What on Earth was that?”
Margot just shrugged and said flippantly, “Security system.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The next several days carried on as uneventfully as possible, given the situation. Ryan and Michael were becoming more comfortable in their new home and the cats were enjoying having seemingly endless space to play in, hide around in, and sleep all over. They had been back to their old building a couple of times to retrieve additional items, as it appeared that they were going to be indefinite guests at Margot’s for the foreseeable future. They said that Mr. Troddleton had taken it upon himself to keep their apartments presentable for when they could all return safely.
Jason continued to have his nightmares but knew dwelling on them all day long would only drive him crazy. So, he busied himself with work in the city during the day and training sessions with Sam At Northwestern in the early evenings. Every night, while the Harcava’s meetings droned on later and later, Jason found himself spending more time with Emma. They would explore the maze of halls and rooms in both her home and Margot’s. She would teach him things about this new world that Sam didn’t, simple tricks and tips, history of the Harcava, and what it was like growing up with everything Jason was just learning.
The Harcava was meeting more than ever. Reports were coming in sometimes two or three times a day about isolated attacks across the world on neutral parties or Altruite enclaves. There was a rise in attacks on civilians in remote villages and disappearances of whole families going unsolved. Just as their Harcava was consolidating their own alliances around the world, Branson was working with an emerging conglomerate of some of the most powerful, feared, and ruthless Domenicians. Jason’s protection against this growing threat was priority and the Harcava continued to focus on keeping Jason safe while formulating a swift and powerful response to Branson’s aggression.
Throughout the past several months, Jason had grown closer with Margot, along with everyone else he’d met on Astor Street. Sam was an excellent mentor that pushed Jason’s limits with his skills and, despite Jason’s ability to almost always exceed expectations, Sam helped him finesse his abilities. Emma’s parents, the Andersons, were perfect hosts. Sandra had a motherly aura about her, doing things like preparing Jason’s lunch for him before work every day and filling up a travel mug with hot coffee before he set off through the flash tunnels. Arthur was more quiet than the rest, really only speaking up in Harcava meetings, but he was kind and patient, and welcomed Jason and his friends without question.
Steve was a constant presence in the house and Jason caught him several times patrolling his office building and Northwestern when he was there. Steve was goofy but knew when to be serious and, despite the age difference, Jason thought of him as a protective older brother. Audrey was still her manic, perennially late and unkempt self, but she was smart and loyal and her acute brilliance always impressed Jason. Every night, when Rachel would come to the meetings, Jason found himself weirdly starstruck. Most nights, she would come straight from the station where she would anchor the six o’clock news, and, sometimes, even in the same outfit she just appeared on tv in. Jason realized that she always seemed distracted, but, when she did contribute, she offered a unique and poignant perspective of the state of current events.
Noticeably absent most nights was Jason’s dad. When Adam did show up, he was often late, didn’t offer much outside the scope of his own updates, and sometimes even left before the meeting was done. He would always call Margot after the meetings and apologize, explaining that there were work things he had to take care of. Jason wished he could say he was surprised, but it appeared to him that, despite everything, nothing had changed with his dad. He was still absent and still had mismatched priorities. Jason couldn’t help but feel like, after years of not being a father, Adam was never going to learn how to be one.
On Friday night, the Harcava decided to host their meeting out of the house. Margot had selected a restaurant owned by an old Altruite friend, complete with a flash tunnel that led to a hallway right outside a large private dining room. The dining room had its own terrace attached, with stunning views of the downtown Chicago skyline. The restaurant was uniquely decorated with an uncanny amount of foliage inside and out, and dim lights that made one feel like they were on some tropical island. Like a mini banquet, Margot had arranged for appetizers and cocktails prior to their dinner, where they would conduct their meeting. She knew the Harcava needed a brief respite from the daunting issues ahead of them and, more importantly, she knew how to entertain.
Margot announced that dinner would be served in five minutes and watched as a couple people made their way to the restroom, or found a seat around the massive, plant laden table. She saw Emma take her seat next to her parents, but didn’t see Jason. She noticed him sitting outside alone, nursing the same beer he’d had for the last forty-five minutes. She went out to the terrace, briefly admiring the lights reflecting from the buildings in the distance. She walked over and sat on a swanky outdoor couch next to Jason. Margot didn’t need to ask what was wrong, she could see Jason’s disappointment growing each minute his father failed to show up.
“He loves you, you know.”
Jason forced a laugh, not moving his gaze from the floor in front of him, “He’s got an interesting way of showing it.” Margot put her arm around him. “You know, I thought that once I learned more about all of this,” he waved his hand in a circular motion in front of him, “this world, that he would acknowledge me… that he would see me.”
Margot squeezed Jason’s shoulder, his words piercing her, “I don’t think you fully understand, honey. The sacrifices he made… that he still makes…”
Jason shrugged, “I have always been an afterthought to him. Almost like a burden.” He shook his head as he continued to study the floor. “And he could use all of this as an excuse before. He used to be able to say that he was protecting me by keeping me at a distance, but…” Jason shifted uncomfortably, “but now I’m here. Now I’m in the middle of it. What’s his excuse this time?”
“I think that, for so long, he was scared of you discovering who you really were, thinking you were safest in your ignorance. But now that you know, he’s more terrified than ever that you are in danger. I think he thinks he failed to keep you safe and he can’t bear to see it.”
Margot leaned her head on Jason’s shoulder and they sat there like that silently for several minutes. The silence was interrupted by the dining room door swinging open onto the terrace, “Oh, I’m sorry, Margot.” Rachel was peeking around the door in her six o’clock news power suit. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but they are serving dinner now.”
They got up and followed Rachel inside. Margot sat at the head of the table while Jason took a seat next to Emma. Their dinner meeting was far less of a meeting than a chance to catch up on a personal level. Jokes were flying around, cocktails were flowing, and the food wowed every last person at the table. Jason’s mood lightened and his heart fluttered as Emma and he shared a piece of chocolate cake drizzled with cherry syrup. Margot looked over, catching Jason’s eye, and smiled lovingly. I’ve got my mom now, Jason thought.
That night, giddy from the excitement and energy from their dinner excursion and a little loopy from the multiple rounds of beers he managed to drink, Jason slept better than ever and with no nightmares to recount. He never would have thought that the next day, his life would change forever.
