Chapter One - Awakenings

BOOK THREE
Of The Amazing Adventures of Emmeline Page:
Revolutionary Librarian
Editor's Notes
From Jacqueline Hackworth-Bowen, Ed:
After delving through the notebooks left by my sister, Josephine Hackworth-Bowen, she seemed to have defined the upcoming chapters as a separate book entirely different in scope and style as well as meaning, flying free from all previous entries.
While all former chapters have dealt with various topics all dear to Josephine's heart such as equal rights, worker's rights, unionization, women's sufferage, ecology, sustainable farming and economy, free energy, alternative energy sources,racial and gender equality, peace action, family planning and many other worthy concerns of the day, she took pains to deliver her small 'morality plays' as she jokingly referred to them, in a manner which she made clear was to be read by pre-teen and young adult readers, and so wrote her 'delivery' in an easily 'digestible' format.
Until now. The following chapters she noted, were for more adult readers. Whoever, wherever they are;here and beyond the Dog Star.Siriusly.
Herein, she warned, she was boldy going, -& split infinitives be damned!- into material much closer to the marrow, the meat, the intrinsic WHY behind, well,  shoes, ships and cabbages and kings the universe, and everything.
Seekers of truth, fear not to enter here, but leave all
preconceptions at the door. What my sister believed to have discovered in her many ramblings both in and beyond this world of ours, she was not faint of heart to divulge.
You have been warned...
--Jacqueline Hackworth-Bowen, Ontario, Canada, 1927 CE
Chapter One: 

Emmeline awoke to the sound of a distant fog horn.
This seemed at first, to be such a humble, familiar sound that she gave it no particular notice in her dream-addled state. As her consciousness slowly ascended past Theta on up through Alpha and into Beta, cries of seabirds and clangs of a trolley bell at last informed her senses that, indeed, she was not in Sonora any longer.
Her eyes flew open, while she remained dead still. As she gazed about her, she saw she was in a single white bed, with white fluffy linens and quilts, in a white wood-paneled room. A window beside her bed was open a crack and salt-tinged cool air blew gently through the billowing white curtains.
She froze. She now tried to come to grips with the certainty that she was, somehow, she believed, in San Francisco.
The artefact!
...Was her one thought as she sat up suddenly, then felt a wave of dizziness. She slumped back against the pillows.
Slowly, now. Her heart began to race as she tried to put her thoughts in order. Daryl. She remembered that much; he'd taken her to Esperanza's and forced her to show him the artefact, and then...
...she awoke in San Francisco.
Slowly, she rose to a sitting position. Shakily, she tried standing, and found herself more or less able. Where is the artefact? She opened the drawer in the small night table beside the bed. There it was, still swathed in it's silken
cocoon. She sighed, relieved. Only then did she notice that she was wearing only her shift and undergarments. She looked to the closet and saw her skirt, and the new purple blouse, both hanging therein. Her boots were cleaned and
sat neatly upon the floor beneath them. Hm.
One thing at a time, Em.She spotted a pitcher of water and basin upon a white chest of drawers. As she poured water and washed up, she noted her left ring-finger, still showing the slightly jagged cut of Josephina's krys knife.
She felt a pang, and a sense of deep loss. To have found such a sweet friend, only to lose her minutes later! Along with the rest of her former life...
The cut was red, but seemed to be healing well. The oil! She searched her skirt pockets then and, diosa be thanked!-- Josephina's oil was still wrapped in her scarf within. Relieved, Emmeline removed the bottle, and uncorked it, sniffing the intoxicating scent that would ever mean the mystery of night, of moon and stars, of music and laughter and spice and flamenco guitars and her gypsy sister...now lost to her...
Em sniffed back her tears and dabbed a tiny drop of her precious oil to the cut on her finger, and touched it behind her ears. At least she had some tangible memories of Josephina, and the others to keep with her and give her courage. She felt so adrift, and caught up in some web of intrigue beyond her control. Thus far...
She looked out the window. Yes, had to be the City. You don't see hills like this in Pankhurst at least. Em's smile was wry as she tried to find which way to the bay and so orient herself. Looked to be morning still, by the sun's position...wisps of fog lingered over the hills beyond.
Nob Hill, perhaps? A hotel, maybe?
And the door...was it locked...? She tried it. No, it swung open without even a creak. She took a quick peek into the hallway, no one there. Closing the door, she dressed quickly and pocketed the artefact. Hm. Apparently she was on the 2nd or 3rd story. No climbing out the window, it seems. It's the door or nothing.
Taking a deep breath, Em went into the hall and sallied forth to meet the challenge of the new day and new world.
New and old mysteries.
                           . . . .
Emmeline followed the fine Turkish rug framed by the wooden corridor which led down the hallway ending at a staircase descending below.So it seemed she was upon the third floor then. Bending over the balcony made her dizzy, observing the nautilus shell of stairs which curved round to rest at last upon the foyer parquet floor.
Slowly, then.
Hearing nothing but the ticking of a clock echoing somewhere within these walls, Emmeline was drawn to the parlor where she found a fire burning in the hearth. No one about;so far so good. She passed through the room to the hall beyond and tried the front door. It didn't budge.
'Good morning.'
Em whirled about, to find Daryl standing before the fireplace in the parlor, holding a book before him. He looked up at Emmeline, regarding her with a slight frown.
Glancing in the corner at the grandfather clock he remarked, 'Well, for another 15 minutes anyway. You slept late.'
What to say to that? Em's lips tightened as she thrust her hands in her skirt pockets, grasping Josephina's oil and the artefact tightly as if they were the only things anchoring her to the planet. And, indeed, it felt thus to Em.
She strode into the parlor,prepared to do battle.
'It is an exhausting pastime, apparently, being abducted against one's will,' ventured Emmeline. She stopped and stood across from Daryl, taking in his tall measure.
Daryl looked up at her over his book, which he closed then. "'We are such stuff, as dreams are made on, and our little life, is rounded with a sleep.'" Daryl smiled slightly at her, a small curve to the lips. 'Shakespeare's  'Tempest', quoth he.
"'One may smile and smile, and be a villain!'" Em countered, 'Hamlet.'
Daryl dropped his smile like a hot poker then and frowned at Em in earnest.
"'Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving.'" He quoted, his fine lips in a hard line. 'Othello.'
Emmeline sighed and sat without invitation upon an armchair facing the fire. 'Has the Bard any quotations perhaps regarding those who lack the manners to offer their abductees even a glass of tea?' she remarked, crossing her legs and leaning back in her seat, her fingers drumming upon the arm of her chair. Lord and Lady! Not only a madman, but one lacking in civility as much as he is bloated beyond measure with unmitigated arrogance. Worse than Jack, she decided.
'My apologies, mistress...' Daryl pulled a bell cord near the mantle and Emmeline heard a rustle of skirts heading up the hallway. A robust woman appeared in housekeeping livery. 'Sir?' She enquired.
'Tea for two, please, Rosa,' Daryl raised a single eyebrow but otherwise regarded Emmeline with mild sangfroid. Rosa turned and bustled out.
'Forgive my perceived parsimony with respect to your comforts. I do try to be most accommodating to those under my...aegis.' At last, Daryl consented to lower his looming presence to the chair across from Emmeline. '...in case you are wondering, it was Rosa who saw to you last night and put you to bed.Later, we may make such changes as you deem necessary to your accouter.'
'My accouter is just fine the way it is, thank you.' Emmeline's ire was rising at this display of self-satisfied
despotism. She managed to contain her wrath but barely. Keep a cool head, Em, she told herself. There has to be a way out. We're only in San Francisco, not the moon, or even Massachusettes.'But let us dispense with all this rococo periphrasis, shall we?' Em wished to have done with this pretentious plutocrat already...She then recalled that Daryl was a playwright. As well as some sort of self-styled magician. Oy. Not only tiresome but seriously addled. Nothing worse than a playwright with a mandamus from the center of the universe for edifiying the masses...
Daryl looked at her, long fingers of one hand playing slowly over his lips,Em believed, to hide a smile. She found nothing to be amused at here.
Rosa appeared, setting a tea tray upon the table next to Daryl. 'Anything else, Don Diego?' she enquired, turning the handle of the porcelain pot to Daryl.
'That will be all for now, thank you Rosa,' Daryl answered to Emmeline's wonderment. He then turned his attention to the tea service, pouring for Emmeline and himself. 'Sweet, with lemon, I believe?' he asked, handing Emmeline the fine Limoges saucer and cup.
Em cleared her throat and nodded, rather nonplussed, as she accepted her tea, which was delicious she had to admit, and just as she liked. 'Don Diego?' she enquired.
'Aliases are most convenient, I find. Don't you, Josephina?' Daryl answered, sipping his tea.
Em's patience was suddenly at an end. She set her tea down.
'What is all this about, Daryl? You have the artefact. What role am I to play in this little...charade of yours?'
'Impatient, are we?'Daryl looked at her closely, still holding his tea. He tilted his head slightly sideways then.
'You do resemble your mother.'
This hit Emmeline like a brick. 'What do you know of her? Who are you, to speak of my mother?'
'I am free to travel through time, as you might have guessed.I knew both your mother and father well.'
'Much good it did either of them,' Emmeline started to rise.
'Emmeline...'Daryl set his cup down. He leaned toward her clasping his hands before him. 'Don't you wish to know, at last, what 'all this' as you call it, is about? Why your father, and Frank as well, went missing in time? Why Jack is so enraptured with you? Why he and Aleister came back from the future, to find you and Alice? Why you are here with me now?'
Naturally, the answers to many of these questions were exactly what kept Emmeline awake nights for years, tossing and turning and traveling down labyrinthian thought-paths til she became utterly lost, worn in mind and spirit. 'Why,' she asked, looking at him intently, 'Would I believe anything you, my abductor, whom Jack also despises,not without reason, I would think!--Why should I or anyone believe anything you have to tell me?'
Daryl sighed and hung his head, staring at the rug, seemingly. His head had fallen forward into a stray ray of sunshine. Emmeline noted that his hair wasn't altogether black like Jack's... but a dark brown, thick still, and shot with golden lights. Jack must have his mother's jet locks then. She thought of Jack, of his anger at the loss of his parents, all due to this man, presumably.
Daryl sat back against the chair, and regarded Em. 'Pax vobiscum, Emmeline.' He ran a hand through his thick hair, a gesture so like Jack's she felt an involuntary tug at her heartstrings. 'I will not keep you here against your will. You are free, to go. However....'he looked at her with a steely grey gaze, 'You will leave as you came, never knowing the answers you seek.'
He stood then, went to the front door, and leaned upon it. Em heard a 'click' somewhere within the door's panel. 'It's open. I'll be here, waiting. If you decide to return. You are free to go, or to stay here, as long as you wish. As I tried to tell you before, I am not your enemy. But, remember this:' he looked at her earnestly, 'I do know who is.' He opened the door then, and turned away from her. 'There are many tales I could share with you Emmeline that would make some order, if not sense, of all your midnight musings. Believe me, I've researched all in fine detail, both your family secrets, and my own.' He turned and regarded her with a solemn look which carried a challenge still. 'You would be surprised, I think, to find how the two came to be intertwined.' He stared at the floor once again. 'I'll be in my study,' So saying, he gestured toward the front door and with a casual shrug, took his exit , Em nearly thought: 'stage right'--
he was so practiced at this! How she would have liked to see him playing opposite Morgana.
 Tatiana and Oberon, truly.
...cabrone...
'Wait!' Em stood, flustered now. Daryl stopped. 'What is your full alias, should I endeavor to reach you?'
He spared a glance her way, and answered, 'Rivera. Diego Rivera.' Daryl then, sadly it seemed, went into the room at the end of the hallway and shut the door.
Em regarded his departure. And the open front door. Without so much as a moment's hesitation, she bolted through  and ran down the steps, her feet taking her unerringly down the high hill toward the bay, the ferry, and the train, beyond the grasping machinations of men.
Or so she thought.
                            . . . . .
It was a long walk to the waterfront, indeed. Emmeline hadn't eaten since the night before,when, she must admit,she had partaken of abit much cider, and jack.Neither did Timewalking agree with her...she was weak and dizzy still. But it felt good to be free, out in the cool sea air, and to walk off some of her frustration.
So, now what, Em? She had abit of the money Jack had given her in the bank, but lacked identification. Would the authorities still be looking for her? Or at all? She didn't
know if she was implicated.
She'd also given some of the cash to the Guevara's...wanting to make certain that they would reach Mexico City safely. Anything else she'd left with Esperanza, for household expenses. She smiled wryly to consider hopping a freight...to where? She was better off in the City here, than Pankhurst, that was certain...why bring trouble to Jack and Aleister's door...?
Emmeline strolled to the docks and wandered out to gaze at the ships and sea lions lounging on the rocks near shore.
She thought back to the not-so Long Ago,when she was here with her old Captain, Alice and Alejandro...such carefree days then, it seemed. How quickly one's life can turn into something altogether unrecognizable.
...Hard to think, she was so weak. She sat upon a wooden bench and sighed. Diosa...what to do...? Well, she wasn't heading back to Jack, that was certain. It galled her to allow him to see her come crawling back, in such dire straits.
Think, Em, try...! She gazed out across the bay, trying to clear her mind...well, she could endeavor to learn what Daryl...'Don Diego' ye gods! the hubris! she mused...what Daryl was up to.
And, somehow,get something from him she could sell or pawn for money...something to ensure her independence for a short while anyway.Then she could send word to Jack and Aleister to meet her somewhere in the city, She felt she owed it to them to let them know what Daryl was up to at least.
Well then. It was the best plan she could think of for now.
At least she'd given Daryl the firm idea that she wasn't keen on staying about, any more than she absolutely had to...
Rigghht.
She gazed up the steep grade heading back to Nob Hill. Ugh.
That'd be no fun on an empty stomach and feeling faint. Wouldn't Daryl just love that, to see her return defeated and bedraggled. At his mercy... Uff da...the things one had to endure these days.
As Em would soon find out, it was nothing compared to what lay ahead.
                            . . . . .
'Get the stick, Dylan! Here boy! Fetch!' Aleister tossed a short stick of kindling across the yard, hoping his new German Shepherd pup would figure out why. Dylan was nothing if not eager, he just wasn't too sure about what.
Leaping madly about, he ignored the flying stick, chasing
in all directions, seeking a scent.
Jack stood and watched from the porch chuckling. 'He'll get it one of these days, Al...young still.'  They'd spent the morning at a kennel which came recommended by the Kahlo's, They had decided upon Dylan, or rather the pup decided upon them, as he'd bounded out to greet them whilst the rest of the litter milled about one another, uninterested in the visitors. Aleister and Jack knew right away they'd been chosen.
Al bent down and clapped his hands. Dylan ran up, tail a-wag. 'Sit!' Al commanded. Dylan sat! He sprang up again a second later and tore off after Alice, however, having spotted her as she endeavored to sneak about the corner of the porch and escape into the relative safety of the house.
'Hold on!' Jack caught the precocious pup by his new collar. 'No! Dylan. No chasing Alice. Alice is your friend.' Alice didn't think so, as she growled and slipped past them inside the screen door. Jack petted the little guy, hoping that Alice would eventually warm to him. Eventually.
Al joined Jack on the porch, grinning. 'They'll work it out, at some point,'he declared. 'Well, it's been a productive morning, Jack! I'm for a bit of lunch, what say?'
'Stay here, boy! You run off some of that energy now...' Jack instructed Dylan as he tossed a red rubber ball his way as distraction. The men followed Alice inside. 'He should be alright in the yard, I don't think he's old enough to go wandering far as yet.'
While Jack dished up some stew and cut the cheese and cornbread, Aleister tried to make amends to Alice with an offering of choice chicken tenders from the stew which Alice condescended to accept neatly. They were chowing down and perusing the morning Courier when Dylan set up a great row barking madly.
'Ah, what now...' Aleister rose and headed for the door.
'Lord and Lady!' Jack heard him exclaim. 'Jack!' Al called then.
Jack frowned and quick-stepped it to the porch where he beheld a sight he'd not seen in over a month. 'Yeats!Ah, sir!' he amended, 'We'd about given up on any notion of when you'd return!' Yeats was on the porch, staring at a bounding Dylan who eventually sat at his feet. 'Hm.' was his only comment.
He looked up at last and regarded Jack and Aleister. 'I have news. It's not good.' And he went past them into the house. Jack and Al looked at each other and followed within.
They found Yeats in the kitchen. 'Any tea about?' he enquired, characteristically, as he sat down and sighed, taking off his hat and rubbing his forehead. Jack set the water on to boil while measuring out the Earl Grey. Aleister sat across from Yeats, concern writ heavy upon them both.
Yeats said nothing, only stared at the table top, running his long fingers through his hair as he ruminated silently.
At last, Jack set a tea tray down and poured for all. When
Yeats had taken a sip, he deigned to speak at last.
'The news, is just this: Emmeline went missing from Sonora.
Gone. Disappered. It took long and long to find any trace of her...' he paused, looking at Jack.
'...yes?' prompted Jack, barely able to contain himself.
Yeats took another sip of tea, sighing. 'She is now in San Francisco. With Daryl.'
                           . . . .

Stolen Women and Robbed Heads

Chapter 7: Stolen Women and Robbed Heads
Emmeline froze.
Daryl was bowing to the crowd which had gathered 'round , cheering and applauding.
'Where is Esperanza?' Emmeline was on the alert and wished only to leave. Now.
Jose' and Josephina shook their heads, both still staring at the mystery musician in awe. Em gathered her skirts and bending low,tried to exit through the crowd without being seen, seeking Esperanza.
Where was she?! Em sought her mentor in the firelight about the gypsy camp, but neither Esperanza or Carlos seemed to be handy. She called, 'Espranza? Carlos?' as she searched the campsites, to no avail. Suddenly, from behind a wagon, a tall figure stepped into her path.
'Emmeline.' It was Daryl!
Em halted, momentarily paralyzed.
'You do recognize me, do you not?' He asked, stepping closer. Em retreated a pace. 'You needn't fear me, you know...' Daryl came closer, a half-smile upon his lips,that same lopsided crooked grin of Jack's...but altogether sinister coming from Daryl alone in the pale moonlight. 'I mean you no harm, Emmeline. I wish to help you.'
'Why are you here?' she managed to speak at last.
'To find you, of course.'Daryl stepped closer. 'I wish to speak with you.'Em looked about her. Where was Esperanza? Daryl noted her hunted look. 'Truly, you've nothing to fear from me, Emmeline! I don't know what Jack may have told you, but I assure you...' he inched closer, holding out a hand toward her. She backed up against a wagon. 'Do you have the artefact with you?' Daryl asked.
'So that's it! You want the artefact! No, I don't have it.'
His gaze narrowed, looking grim. 'Where is it?' he asked softly.
'It is safe.'
Daryl sighed. 'Emmeline, we need to speak together, privately...' he reached out toward her, taking her arm.
'Esperanza!' Emmeline yelled, 'Carlo--' Daryl's hand clamped tightly over her mouth, as he put his other arm about her, pinning her arms and clasping her against him. 'No need for that. We're leaving now. Come.' He dragged her with him behind the wagon. 'Do not yell. You're not going to be hurt. I hoped you would listen reasonably, but, if you insist...' He released her a moment only to whip cuffs about her wrists in a flash, and then taking off his kerchief, tied it about her mouth. 'There. And we're off,' he said, leading her into the brush where he had his large black horse tied. 'Up you go,' he said, pushing her into the stirrup and saddle, and getting on behind her, gave heels to his horse and they were galloping off and up--back into the hills above the camp.
                        . . . . .
How could this be happening? Emmeline couldn't believe it. She must be cider-addled. How could she have allowed...but, she certainly wasn't expecting Daryl. If it had been some stranger, she would have fought like a wildcat. But, here was Jack's uncle...or father...and looking so like Jack. She'd been bamboozled.
And now they were flying over the hilltops, back toward the Enchanted Village. Would that be Villa Encantata?
Oh, goddess...diosa, what now? Em's head spun with mad fancies. Daryl wanted the artefact. Em felt curiously protective of it...it had power obviously. And it was her father's. Now hers. When would someone miss her from the gypsy camp?  On and on they galloped.
They were approaching the winding wooded canyons and were coming closer the the village. Daryl's big gelding snorted with each hard breath, and they had to slow up somewhat, the road was rougher and twisted about upon itself .
Daryl pulled up the black and uncorked his canteen. He sighed, pulling the cloth gag from Em's mouth at last.
She spat.
'Water?' he asked, and not waiting for an answer, tipped it gently to her lips. Em drank, abit. Daryl then drank and capped it. Saying not another word, he
kicked the horse into a slow canter, leaving her mouth free. No one was about this far up over the hills and far away.
The moon was retreating from high above and heading back around the planet when they entered the strange peace of the village and Em knew then that indeed Daryl knew exactly where to go and which adobe was Esperanza's. He pulled up before the door, dismounted, then helped Emmeline off, stiff and sore from the mad ride, 'He needs water,' He turned to her, unlocking the cuffs.
She gazed hard at him, turned on her heel and went to
the trough in back for a bucket. What now...could she get to a knife at least? There were nice sharp kitchen knives, and a cleaver as well as axe. Em's berserker
Valkyries began to awaken within as she dipped to fill the bucket. She'd be best with a knife she decided, if she could get close enough... Still not at her strongest for the axe. Too bad, it was a nice double-blade labyris. Fit for a goddess, or amazon, but not Em just now; recuping still and full of cider. And jack.
She straightened and splashed some water on her face, then strode slowly back to where horse and rider awaited. She wasn't about to begrudge the poor beast his well-deserved cool relief. He certainly couldn't help it if his master was...what, really? She wondered. Was a spirit, alive or dead? Stuck between zones? He certainly seemed warm and fleshy enough. A hard man, like stone he seemed as well. Not one to show his hand.
She had to be careful about showing hers. Setting down the water before the thirsty animal who guzzled, she straightened. 'Now what.'
'Easy now...'he pulled his horse's head up, which drizzled streams of water from his mouth as he jerked his head, wanting more,'Not so much at once. So greedy...' he looked at Em with his hard grey eyes that reflected the moon like Jack's, giving him the cold gaze of a statue. 'Slowly...' he let him drink once more.
Emmeline simply turned on her heel and went inside. To find the knives...
Daryl let her go while he tied up the black, then followed her within.Ducking under the woven blanket which served as door, he regarded Em as she spun about standing at the kitchen counter.
Not altogether a fool, nor thinking that Emmeline was,
Daryl eyed the humble adobe abode. 'Home sweet home,' he said, and entering, stood before the fireplace. 'Would you care for a fire?' He surprised her by asking, staring at the open fire pit.
'With blue flames?' Emmeline shot back.
He smiled then. 'If you like,'looking too much like Jack in the moonlight. Only a heavier, sadder Jack, it seemed. Jack in afew more years perhaps, she suddenly intuited.
'Do as you wilt. You certainly have thus far.' Her voice carried enough vitriol to wither iron.
Daryl spoke not a word but went straight to his work.
He first took matches from his inside pocket and struck one with his thumbnail, an odd method which also was one of Jack's tricks. Rather more mundane than Yeats's
so-called 'sulphurless fire'...
Daryl lit a candle he found upon the mantle, then crouched before the firepit and began to place kindling about, cracking a stick here and there. Emmeline began to slowly creep closer, now eyeing the coal shovel. If she could just bash him over the head, it'd be preferable to using a knife...
Daryl sighed, and looked her way. 'Squeamish about a little stabbing, my dear?'
Em stopped dead. Had he read her mind? The bastard.
'Messier, that's all.'she replied, adding:'Cabrone.'  to herself, her voice cold.
Daryl smiled his sad half-smile and lit the kindling.
He stood watching the fire catch and do a slow burn.
Glancing her way, he motioned her closer.
'Time for a fireside chat,' he said.
Emmeline eyed Daryl and stood her ground. 'Why? What  would I possibly have to say to my abductor?' Em was incensed. Like father like son, she couldn't help but think.
Daryl lowered himself with serpentine grace upon the sheepskins before the fireplace and patted the space beside him. 'Sit.'
Despite her best instincts, Em found herself approaching. She kept the long kitchen knife hidden in the fold of he skirt and sat some ways from Daryl, but if he reached for her, she would be ready. Blade up, in the guts, and a quick thrust upward, severing what all she could put muscle behind.
Daryl regarded her then with brows raised, but said nothing. He looked down and shook his head. 'I am not your enemy, despite how this looks.'
'Somehow I'd rather not trust you, Mr. Van Horn.' Em sat straight with her legs under her, ready to spring.
He looked at her narrowly. 'The artefact. It's here. Where?'
Em said nothing. The two of them stared at one another for some minutes, neither flinching. At last, Em asked,'Why do you want it?'
'If I told you, you wouldn't believe me.'He held her gaze.'We've no time. I'd rather you give it willingly.
But, needs must...'
'...when the devil drives? Or sits across from one?' Em finished for him.
A short sigh, and Daryl reached over and took the knife from Em's oddly willing hand.
'I dislike doing this,' he said, stashing the knife behind a box on the mantle as he stood, and taking Em's hand, pulled her up to stand beside him. Holding both her hands tightly,'Now. The artefact,' he commanded.
Emmeline's brow creased in consternation as she found herself released. She headed to a large chest that was hidden under a pile of blankets in the corner. She couldn't believe that her body was moving to get the artefact despite her mind screaming at her to do anything but. She rummaged about within the chest and brought out the silk swathe she had wrapped about the artefact.
She turned, and slowly, painfully walked to Daryl. She handed the silk oblong package to him. 'I despise you,'she managed to say, her voice shaking.
Daryl was staring at the artefact. 'Join the club,' he muttered darkly, as he unwrapped the silk, finding the cold white ovoid within. 'Ahh...' he breathed. 'Good.
Here, take the artefact.' He returned it.'And take my hand, now we can go.' Em obeyed, and without so much as a flash of light, the two of them disappeared.
The flames in the fireplace burned a bright blue, then black, and died, leaving only a wisp of smoke in their wake.
                     . . . . .
Yeats sat together with Thelene resting her head upon his shoulder as they gazed out across the balcony overlooking the Mavrodaphne-dark sea below. Suddenly Thelene drew apart from him, startled.
'Something...there's...something's wrong,'she stammered, unlike her usual calm self.
'...a disturbance in the force...'Yeats was half-dozing still.
Thelene stood and looked at him. 'No jokes, Shane, please!'
Just then, Anara came running up the steps toward them.
'Thelene! It's Emmeline! She's gone!'
.
Thelene took her pupil's hands. 'What's happened?' Yeats was on his feet and wide awake now.
'I don't know!' Anara looked panicked.'I simply can't feel her any longer!'
'For how long now?' her teacher asked gravely.
'Only moments. She seemed safe enough, not far from The Village. Then...all went dark. It's as though she is...
in a black box.'
'She lives?'Yeats asked quietly.
'Oh yes.'Anara looked confused. 'But, I don't know, something...something is blocking me. Blocking us, our connection. I can't find her!' She looked, eyes wide at Thelene. 'She's lost to us!'
Yeats and Thelene regarded one another. He put an arm about Anara, 'We shall find her. You believe she is well?' The girl nodded. 'Then don't despair. Thelene...' he looked to his mate, as he helped Anara sit upon their vacated bench. They repaired to a corner alone. 'What do you think?' Thelene asked.
'Not what, but possibly, who.' Yeats had a notion.
'I'll leave this to you then. For the time being. Take whomever you can trust. But bring her back, Shane. You know she could tip the balance in this.'
Shane took Thelene in a close embrace and kissed her hair. 'I'll be going then. Keep me apprised on your end,' he nodded at Anara.
'Stay safe, beloved,'whispered Thelene as Yeats winked out like a light gone dark.

                     . . . . . .
Morning dawned bright and beautiful back in Northern California. Summer here came early, and as Jack stepped out onto the porch he knew it would be a hot day soon...warming up already. He'd brought his coffee and guitar outside with him and sat in one of the wicker chairs and taking a sip, began to strum. Alice nosed open the screen door and surprisingly joined him in the chair beside his.
'Well, Alice Bear Warrior, how are you this fine morning?' Jack enquired of his feline companion. Alice was usually a one-man cat and didn't favor Jack with her company. She seemed easy enough now however and curled up for a mid-morning nap. Well, maybe Jack felt easier within himself and it showed.
'Should write a song for you, little cat with big heart,'Jack mused as he studied the sky and breathed in the fresh morning air. For too long he hadn't noticed much around him, being so self-absorbed. He grimaced.
Enough of that. Time was a-wastin'...he sighed and put the guitar strap over his shoulder. He'd work on Alice's song later. He needed to talk to Aleister, if they were to See A Man About A Dog today. Meanwhile...Jack strummed an intro and sang an old Peter Rowan song:
'Panama Red! Panama Red...
On his white horse Mescalito,
He comes breezin' through town,
He'll steal your woman,
Then he'll rob your head...'
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