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 Twenty-One
Light leaked in through the crack in the drapes and streaked across Jason’s face. A soft purr could be heard from somewhere down near his feet. Jason opened his eyes and looked around, finding himself in an unfamiliar place. Light wood-paneled walls surrounded the four-post bed he found himself in. A heavy down comforter and an array of soft pillows cuddled him, along with a cat curled into a donut shape at the foot of the bed. Jason propped himself up on his elbows, finding his bag and possessions sitting on a large reading chair in the corner of the room. His movement startled the cat at the bottom of the bed, who unfurled itself and looked at Jason. He knew he recognized the cat, but couldn’t place from where exactly.
Jason got up slowly and looked around the dimly lit room, unsure where he was. His body ached like he had just run a marathon, but despite a few yawns and a slight tiredness, he felt refreshed. Jason walked over to the drapes and opened them to let in some light. Outside, he could see a well-manicured yard enclosed in an imposing iron gate. Beyond the yard, sidewalk and street, there were a number of stately homes in perfect alignment facing him. He quietly turned back towards the room, studying it for clues. A few landscape paintings hung on the pastel-colored walls in between elegant mounted lamps. The ornately carved ceiling featured splashes of colors to compliment the walls and, in the center of the ceiling, hung a small but beautiful chandelier that sparkled from the sunlight hitting its crystal angles.
Jason tiptoed to his belongings, his movement again waking up the cat, which stood up, stretched its two front legs out and arched its back before jumping off the bed and running out the door, which Jason failed to notice was slightly ajar. Fearing the sudden fleeing of the cat would result in its owners finding out Jason was awake, he grabbed his phone and began to dial 911. Before he could finish, he heard the soft sound of house slippers shuffling along the hallway towards the room he was in. Jason froze, unable to complete his task at hand. Seconds later, a soft tap reverberated off the half-opened door. Resigning to whatever fate had in store for him, Jason stuttered, “Um, yes. Um, come in..?”
The door slowly creaked open. A woman in her early 50s appeared, cradling the cat in her arms, petting it slowly and affectionately. “Good morning, Jason.” Her voice was soft and sweet. She had long dark hair, pulled into a ponytail, big brown eyes and a warm smile. She was dressed casually, in sweatpants and a t-shirt, complete with a loose fitting sweater. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She stayed where she was, petting the cat in her arms, her smile remaining intact. She could sense Jason’s apprehension, so said, “Jason, why don’t you come with me to the parlor. There are some people who would like to talk with you. It will all make sense soon.”
Without waiting for his response, she turned and began to shuffle back down the hall. Figuring he had no other options, he pushed his phone into his pocket and began to follow her. He turned into the hall, which had similar wood trim as the room he woke up in, although much darker. The floor was a shiny, cold marble, and lamps adorned the hallway walls every few yards, offering a softly lit path through the rich hallways of the home. He could see the woman waiting at the end of the hall, smiling at him, along with two or three other voices growing in volume beyond her. Jason caught up to the woman who asked if he wanted anything to drink. Although Jason said no, she insisted, then directed him to the parlor before turning off in the direction of the kitchen.
He emerged into a room that reminded him of an old English manner home he had seen in movies before. A large fireplace sat in the center of the far wall, framed by a large stone mantle. Two huge plush couches sat facing each other in the middle of the room and a grand piano with its hood elevated was tucked into the corner. The walls again matched the wood paneling he had seen throughout the home so far, and another intricately etched ceiling hung over the room, with a much larger chandelier illuminated in the center. Jason’s eyes settled on three men in deep discussion sitting on the couches. When they noticed Jason, they stopped talking and looked up at him. A man that Jason recognized stood up and walked over to him, putting his hand on his back and directing him to a comfortable looking reading chair that faced the table in the center of the couches. “Jason, why don’t you come sit with us so we can chat for a bit.”
Jason cautiously sank into the chair and looked up at the faces of the men in front of him and asked shakily, “What is going on here?”
Without answering, the man Jason recognized said, “Jason, my name is Steve Campbell and I’m with the Chicago Police Department.” Jason’s eyes thinned as he studied the man’s face. That’s why he recognized him, he carried him off the train after that thing attacked him. “You probably have a lot of questions, and we will help answer them for you…” The heat began to form in Jason’s gut as Officer Campbell spoke. “… and there’s no need for that here. You’re amongst friends.” The heat immediately subsided, a wave of cold enveloping the ball of warmth and deflating it into nothing.
“Who are you guys? And… how do you know who I am?” Jason’s hands were anxiously gripping the arm rests. He wore a look of fear and confusion on his face.
“Jason, this is Professor Sam Levitt, he works at Northwestern University.” Steve pointed to a skinny man on the couch next to him. He pointed his finger directly across from him at the other man. “And this is Arthur Anderson. We are in his home.” Just then, the woman with the warm smile walked in with a steaming cup of coffee. She placed the mug on a small side table next to Jason as Steve said, “And I believe you’ve already met Sandra, Arthur’s wife, and Sam’s sister, in fact.” Steve leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees. He spoke slowly, but clearly, taking great care to acknowledge Jason’s heightened emotions. “I brought you here last night after I found you on the train.”
Jason’s eyebrows furled in confusion, “But why here? Why didn’t you take me to the hospital or something?”
Steve, without changing his tone or inflection, continued with his soothing demeanor, “It wasn’t safe to take you anywhere but here last night.” He could see a fresh wave of confusion wash over Jason. Steve looked at Sam and nodded slightly, as he motioned for him to continue.
Sam turned his body to face Jason directly. “Jason, last night you were being followed by a group of beings that were intending to hurt you. Steve here was alerted to this just as you were getting on the train, which is why he was there when the train entered the station. You fainted and were brought here.”
Suddenly, Jason remembered the man on the train, “That guy on the train… Is he… dead?”
Sam’s voice softened some more, “He was not a man, but yes, you killed it. To the rest of the world, these things resemble men, but they are not.”
Sandra sat down next to Arthur and looked at Jason, her eyes kind and caring. Jason looked at her and felt a strange sense of relief wash over him, “Ok,” he gulped hard, “so then, what was it?”
Sam was about to speak when Sandra broke in, “I’m sorry Sam, but, may I?”
Sam looked at the others without saying anything, then back to Sandra and nodded. Sam glanced back at Jason with a meager smile. Sandra got up and moved to the chair next to Jason, leaning in close, like a teacher explaining a difficult mathematical equation, “Jason, I think it’s time you learn about who you really are.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“All around the world and all throughout history, there are people born with a special gift of varying degrees. Most people possess a very small amount of this gift. So small, that they themselves never even know it’s there. It never manifests itself in their life, so they simply go on living without knowledge of the gift. On the other hand, there are certain people that have an abundance of this gift and, whether they are taught to harness it by others or the gift makes itself known to them, these people can learn to use the gift.
“Now, this gift has had a number of names throughout history: whether it was called ‘superpower’ or ‘magic’, you, Jason, possess this gift. Nowadays, our kind refer to it as mezmora.”
Jason shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He was beginning to think these people were insane, but was sure to avoid allowing his emotions to show on his face. He figured his odds of escape were virtually nonexistent, what with four of them and one of him. Plus, he had no idea where he was. He had seen enough scary movies to know that running around aimlessly in unfamiliar territory was never a good idea.
“As you could imagine, factions began to form, and families began to rise. Power can drive humans crazy with greed and ambition. Before long, power struggles erupted all over the world. Like dynastic families throughout history, particular houses began formulating alliances, whether it was through territories or marriages. Eventually, though, all the factions fell mostly on two sides.”
“One side believed that the gift should be used in private, away from the public eye. The gift should be taught as a tool to be used only amongst those that knew about it, for practical purposes, and, only in the most dire circumstances, as a defense mechanism. They were known as the Altruites. The other side believed that this gift made them better, more important, than the rest of the human race. What started as a lifestyle of peaceful co-existence quickly transformed into outright violence and hateful submission. Now, Jason, this faction wasn’t naïve. They knew that small insurrections would quickly be quelled by the non-gifted people, so it was decided that they needed to amass their power and create forbidden alliances to mount an all-out offensive. They were known as the Dominecians.
“People around the world, sympathetic to the teachings of the Dominecians, fed up with being persecuted or shunned because of their knowledge of mezmora, set out upon a cannibalistic campaign to recruit its warriors. When people resisted, they were cut down, ruthlessly murdered. Long ago, one of the Dominecian leaders discovered a way to draw the mezmora out of lesser gifted people and consolidate it into a host, essentially creating super soldiers. One of the consequences of these practices is that it killed the person who was drained. Quickly, eerie scenes of individuals and families that looked like they were asleep, but were later found to be dead, were popping up all over the world. The Altruites knew it was the Dominecians. However, to the untrained human eye, these scenes were described away in terms the average person would understand. Law enforcement officials and doctors simply wrote off these incidences as natural causes.
“Realizing that they could no longer sit by and watch their neighbors and families meet a violent end, the Altruites rose up to defend against the Dominecians. Powerful groups on both sides of the divide emerged to formulate armies, more or less. In more recent times, people belonging to both ideologies began to entrust certain individuals with leadership roles. Councils and houses were created to serve and protect their followers all over the world, including here in Chicago.” Sandra waved her arm around the room as she said this.
Jason sat still, his hands cramping from the tense grip he’d maintained on the arm rests of his chair. Without movimg his head, his eyes darted from face to face of those in the room. He spoke shakily, “What does this have to do with what happened to me last night?”
Sandra smiled warmly, a small wave of calm pouring over Jason, she spoke steadily, “Nowadays, we find ourselves at a critical juncture. Just a few short decades ago, the Keeper of Stories, an ancient being that lives amongst the neutral parties of the world, delivered a prediction that war would erupt between the two factions.” Sandra paused and looked at her hands, considering how to deliver her next sentence. “The Keeper of Stories also mentioned that an Altruite would be born that could defeat the Dominecians. Scholars, in interpreting the full text of the prediction, further surmised that this Altruite would be born in Chicago…” She paused again, eyes on Jason, measuring his reaction.
Sandra took a deep breath and continued, “Jason, it has been assumed that you may be the subject of this prediction.”
Jason’s eyes widened as he looked at Sandra, then around the room, hoping desperately that someone would tell him they were joking. After a few seconds went by in silence, Jason laughed and shook his head, “This sounds a little… crazy?” He looked back at Sandra, “There’s some magical world at war and I’m some hero that saves everyone?” He looked around the room again, waiting for the crowd to break, “I’m not a kid… I don’t… I don’t believe in this stuff.”
Sam looked at Sandra, who nodded slowly, then turned to Jason, speaking purposefully, methodically, like the teacher he was, “Jason, last night, you were attacked by a group of Devitors.” He could see Jason’s face contorting into confusion, but was intent on finishing his thought before he could be interrupted. “These beings are not men, as I mentioned before, but dark entities that have pledged allegiance to the Dominecians. Think of them as the Domenicien’s hit men. Their sole purpose is to hunt for mezmora from anyone who possesses a traceable amount of it. More recently, though, they have been given a different task to complete.”
Jason looked at Sam, hanging on to each word as he spoke them.
“Their new task is eradicating you.” Sam paused, looking deep into Jason’s astonished eyes. “Well, not you, specifically, but the Altruite they believe will be born in Chicago. The Altruite they believe will end their allies, the Domenicians. Unfortunately, the Domenicians are determined. So much so, that they have successfully eradicated too many young men and women they believed to be the person mentioned by the Keeper of Stories. It’s not very often you hear of healthy twenty-five year olds dying from heart failure in their sleep.” Sam leaned forward, “Jason, it doesn’t matter if you think we are a little crazy or spouting on about fairytales. What happened to you last night is just the beginning, especially since they now know you possess the gift. Whether you like it or not, they believe they have found their guy.”
Jason looked down, trying to process everything he was hearing. He studied the carpet, then the table in front of him, then the cup of tea on the table. Eventually, in a subdued tone, he asked, “Why me? Why now?”
Arthur, who, until now, had remained silent, explained, “Well, while people with the gift have it since birth, those with a ‘usable’ amount see it manifest at age twenty-five. Tell me, Jason, have you felt any different since your twenty-fifth birthday?”
Immediately, all of the strange events and occurrences played out in Jason’s head: the homeless woman on the bridge, the coffee incident at work, the men in black, the birthday card from the man downstairs, Ryan’s cat breaking into his apartment repeatedly.
Arthur, seeing Jason’s reaction, went on, “Your parents, your mom especially, was convinced that you were the person from the Keeper’s prediction. And although your dad was initially reluctant…”
Jason sat up straight in his seat and looked directly at Arthur, “Did you say my dad?”
Arthur looked around at the other faces uncomfortably, “Well, yes. Your father, Adam Ellington…”
“My dad knows about this? You all know him?” Jason stood up as he said this. His eyes began to pool with tears of betrayal and an intense sadness mixed with an inexplicable anger. “You knew my mom?”
Sandra stood up and walked towards Jason with her arm stretched out. “Jason, honey, please sit…”
Jason could feel the heat developing in his core as he dodged Sandra’s hand and began walking around the couch. “I need to get out of here. I need to go home!”
“Jason, calm down, sweetheart.” Sandra was talking to Jason’s back as he hurried out of the Parlor and into a massive entrance hall. He eyed the front door and ran along the marble floor until he reached the handle. He yanked the heavy door open and jumped out onto the stone portico, pulling the door shut behind him. He found himself standing in the yard of the house he had seen when his friends were in town. His breathing intensified as he ran down the front path and out on to Astor Street.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jason made his way home, the sights and sounds of the city muted by the thoughts that were preoccupying his mind. He was oblivious to the other people on the street, the laughing groups swapping stories over lunch on restaurant patios, the others hurrying in and out of shops and boutiques, others simply enjoying Sunday strolls along the busy paths. No roaring engines from loud trucks or honking from impatient drivers. No sirens from rushing paramedics or tweets from birds. Just a muted static accompanying the overwhelming thoughts playing over and over in Jason’s mind.
Jason turned onto his street and saw his building. It looked dull and alone through the filter in which he now saw the world. He walked up to the building and pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. His feet climbed each step slowly, heavily. On the landing, Ryan opened his door and walked out to block Jason, his hands on his hips and a face half angry, half concerned. “Where on earth were you last night?”
“I know, I know…”
“First you send me some ominous text, then continue to ignore me all night and show up at home the next morning looking…” Ryan looked at Jason from head to toe, “…like that. I was giving you one more hour before I called the cops!” Ryan stopped, closed his eyes and took a deep, dramatic breath. He opened his eyes slowly and asked “Is everything ok?”
Jason, dazed, let out a half-hearted laugh, “Yeah, I’m fine. Really. And I’m sorry about last night. I just got caught up at work and…” he gulped and looked away, “I just ended up falling asleep at my desk.”
Ryan didn’t believe him but felt like it wasn’t the time to press him, “Alright, well, go get some rest and let’s catch up later!”
Jason smiled weakly and turned to unlock his door. When he got inside, he kicked off his shoes and threw his keys on the counter. He made his way around the corner, heading towards his living room when he jumped, letting out an uncontrolled yell. Sitting on his couch was a beautiful young woman, somewhere around his own age, he guessed. She had long dark hair and bright green eyes. She was thumbing through a coffee table book on European Castles while Patriot slept next to her, nestled up to her leg. Jason scanned the room quickly, jarred out of his stupor, his eyes darting to the back slider, the window. Nothing was broken or missing or out of place. He looked back at the woman with his back pressed up against the wall apprehensively. He asked, his voice breaking slightly, “Who are you?”
She didn’t look up at him, but instead turned the page and gasped, “Ok, this has got to be one of my favorite castles in Europe. Have you ever been to the Chateau des Plusieurs Saisons?” She turned the large book outward, then looking up, her large green eyes staring, unblinking, directly at Jason. She smiled slightly and cocked her head to the side.
His heart jumped while a small ball of heat danced up his stomach. He gulped and asked her again in a more steady voice, “Who are you?”
The smile left her face, and she let out a small, defeated sigh as she shut the book and stood up. She was tall, just a few inches shorter than Jason, and thin. She was wearing a brightly colored t-shirt and some jeans. She put the book on the couch next to the now disturbed Patriot, who glared at her, and walked over to Jason. She stuck her hand out and said, “Hi Jason, my name is Emma.”
Jason’s eyes never left hers as he slowly stuck his hand out towards hers, his heart pounding, “Hi… Emma… umm, what are you doing here?”
“Oh, right!” She turned back towards the couch and reached for something on the floor. Jason watched her anxiously. She sprung back up and handed Jason his work bag, “You left this at my parents’ house this morning.”
With everything he heard that morning, Jason completely forgot his stuff at that house. Again, in slow-motion, Jason reached for his bag. “How did you know where I live?” He paused, thinking, “And, how did you get here before me?”
“Mr. Troddleton.” She said matter-of-factly. Seeing Jason’s face fighting for an explanation, she continued, speaking slowly, as if it were a foreign language, “Mr. Troddleton’s apartment has one of the flash tunnels. So, when you left earlier, I used it to come here. When I got to Mr. Troddleton’s, he gave me a key to your place so I could wait inside.” She looked back at her spot on the couch where Patriot was cleaning his paws. “Lucky for me, Patriot was here to keep me company!”
Jason was silent, his mouth hung open and his head shook slowly as he processed more of the insane information. His initial fear of finding a stranger in his apartment was subsiding slightly by Emma’s soft voice and lackadaisical demeanor, but his guard was still up given her close association to the crazy people he met that morning.
“They really didn’t tell you much, did they?” Sighing heavily, Emma walked over to Jason, then guided him to the couch and told him to sit. She moved over to the other end of the couch and sat down, her legs tucked under her. “Ok, what do you know so far?”
Jason started speaking hesitantly. He laughed multiple times as he recounted parts of the conversation, not believing the words coming out of his own mouth. He concluded by describing how he ran out at the mention of his parents. He covered his face and let out a loud groan. He tossed himself back on the couch and looked up at the ceiling and said, “What on earth is happening to me?” He looked back at Emma who was quietly looking at him with an empathetic gaze.
“I can’t pretend to know what you must be going through. I was raised in this world.” She waved her hands in a circular motion above her head. Her voice was smooth and soft, cradling. She sat up straighter and gave Jason a reassuring look, “Let me start over. As you know, there was a ‘prophecy’ of sorts, that the Domenicians were going to go to war, but that an Altruite would be born that possessed enough power to stop them, blah blah blah…” She looked at Jason, careful to not sound too crazy. Her flippancy was oddly comforting. “So, the Domenicians made all these pacts with these ancient creatures of sorts, one of which was chasing you all over Chicago last night.”
“The Devitors?” Jason interjected.
“Yeah, the Devitors. They are basically some creepy ancient beings that take the shape of humans and are essentially assassins, but don’t actually possess any mezmora.” She was waving her hands around while she spoke, like it was normal to talk about these things. “So, since first hearing about your mom’s pregnancy, the Chicago Harcava, which is a fancy way of saying ‘council’, was convinced that you were this savior.”
Jason scoffed at hearing that, “Ok…”
Emma brushed his reaction aside, “I don’t know all the details, but after everything with your parents, your dad decided to raise you without telling you about any of this.”
Jason’s head dropped, a rush of confused emotion weighing down on him.
Noticing this, Emma added, “I think he was just trying to protect you. He knew that, if you never displayed any knowledge of your abilities, there’s no way the Domenicians would suspect you. To them, you don’t… or, didn’t… exist. The problem they didn’t think about when the original plan was hatched, though, is that some of the more gifted people, well, their gift makes itself known on their twenty-fifth birthday.”
Jason looked up at Emma, who returned his stare with a sympathetic nod.
“Your dad went to so many lengths to keep you protected. He’s actually pretty well known throughout our world, so he knew that he would be watched closely.”
Jason blurted out, shocked, “My dad?”
“Yeah! I mean, everyone knows Adam Ellington. Not just as the multi-millionaire finance guru but also as a force throughout our little shadow world.”
Jason gasped. “My dad has all but abandoned me.” He looked away, sullen. “Sometimes I honestly almost forget I have a dad…until I’m reminded by a new disappointment.”
Emma looked at Jason with sad eyes. She studied his tanned skin and short, wavy brown hair. His light brown eyes reminded her of honey and his sharp features reminded her of old Roman statues. “I want to show you something.”
Her voice broke Jason out of his sulking trance.
“Ok, it’s better if you stand up.” She grabbed his hand and walked him away from the couch and into the center of his living room. “Alright, stand right there and just relax.”
A curious smile began to emerge on Jason’s face as he watched Emma cup her hands together like she was holding an invisible ball. Seconds later, a faint pink light began to shine through the cracks in her fingers. Jason’s face slowly morphed into one of intense curiosity. Emma’s eyes were focused on her hands as she gradually opened them, like a blooming flower. Thin ribbons of pink, white, and blue light swayed slowly in her palms. They didn’t produce any noise that Jason could hear, but the light they emitted was brilliantly electric and looked as though it would be hot to the touch. The ribbons of light snaked around each other, each an independent stream, but mingling closely in a bunch, attached to Emma’s palms still like a plant’s stems growing from the soil.
Emma looked up at Jason, noticing the colorful ribbons continuing to sway in the reflection of his honey-colored eyes. She didn’t look away as she began to move her hands apart, causing the ribbons to grow from small, short strings, to two foot, three foot, four foot prisms of flowy light. Jason broke their gaze as he eyed the growing bouquet flowing from Emma. She sensed his unease and said calmly, “it’s harmless.” She smiled as she stretched her arms wide and the ribbons of light reached toward the ceiling, then curved back down like an arch towards Jason.
He stood there, paralyzed by a mix of outright fear and absolute fascination, as the ribbons crashed onto the floor in front of him, then gently crawled towards his feet. Slowly, the light wound its way around Jason’s ankles and began moving up his legs like vines. The light wasn’t violently hot like he thought it would be, but instead, relaxing and warm. As the vines of light wound further up Jason’s torso and around his chest, Jason looked back at Emma, surrendering to whatever was happening to him. The light swirled in tight curls down his arms to the tips of his fingers as other strands swirled around his neck and head.
Once he was fully enveloped in the warm fluorescent display of electric pinks and whites and blues, they stopped flowing from Emma’s open arms and silently swirled closely around him. As if it were following a track, the ribbons began to unravel, slowly at first, then quickly. A low hum sounded from the rapidly increasing movements of the light. The strands receded from all over his appendages until they all met as a furious swirling ball in the center of his chest. Jason gasped as the vibrating ball of light smashed itself into his chest, disappearing, but leaving a puff of colorful ash-like flakes disintegrating around him. He hunched over slightly as rushes of warmth caused his chest and stomach to flutter like butterflies had invaded him inside.
He stood up straight and started laughing while Emma just looked at him smiling. Jason was shaking out his arms and feet as the remaining energy subsided inside of him. Finally, he asked, in between deep breaths, “What… what was that?”
Emma laughed lightly, enjoying Jason’s reaction, “It’s an old trick my mom used to use on me. Think of it like a really big, colorful, magical hug.”
Jason laughed again, still processing the incredible experience he just had, “That was insane!”
Emma walked up to Jason and put her hand out towards him, “I think it’s time we teach you about who you really are.”
Jason’s smile faded into a look of serious contemplation. He looked at Emma’s small, manicured hand then up at her face and into her big, green eyes. His hand met hers as he said, “Alright, let’s go.”
