Chapter 11: Diamond Dreams and Starstreams

Chapter 11: Diamond Dreams and Starstreams
Emmeline awoke to the sweet strains of the mandolin concerto by Vivaldi playing background music within her disappearing dream...she was back There again by the sea, wearing a grecian gown and walking along the water's edge...could it be Greece? she wondered, but she had certainly never traveled there in this lifetime. A man was walking toward her, a tall figure which became ever taller; long, straight fair hair glowing reddish in the sun, his skin in fact, had a slight glow from within as well...he grew in size as he approached, a slender, willowy frame but
he was not in proportion to any human she had ever seen. The man must have been nearly eight feet tall.
Definitely not Greece.
She seemed, however, at the time, to be not unduly discomfited by this, and, in fact, knew this being and welcomed him. She held her arms out to him, and he gathered her into an embrace; not so unequal, as she had had the forethought to stand upon a dune and her head reached just below his breastbone, between his ribs.
'How fare you, little one?' The man's deep voice echoed in her mind, though his lips never moved.
She lifted her head, standing away from him and looked into his electric blue gaze, full of compassion for her. Looking into those twin blue pools, Emmeline felt herself falling, as into the waters of a deep tropical lagoon...
And awoke.
                        . . . .
Still rather dazed by her dream, Em felt she was neither here nor there at present. She endeavored to center herself and breathed deeply...could that have been the man she had glimpsed in the druid's cauldron? Whatever could it all mean?
Feeling slightly dizzy, she thought she would benefit by a bite of breakfast and tea. She dressed quickly and slowly made her way downstairs, touching the sides of the hallway to keep her balance.
She found Daryl in the kitchen instead of Rosa's usual smiling self. 'Oh!' She blinked. 'Buenos dias, Diego,' she attempted civility; everything was 'off' this morning. She groped her way to the table and sat, staring into the foggy morning beyond the kitchen window, her mind feeling just as pea-soupish.
'Buenos dias, Emmelina,' Daryl consented to her Spanish appellation. 'Are you well?' His words echoed that of the strange man in her dream. ('Well...well...well...'echoed her thoughts, as if lost toppling down one.) Her brow knitted together in a slight frown as she tried  to muster her faculties.
'Here.' He set a cup of steaming tea before her, regarding her with concern. 'Rosa went to the corner market. She should return soon. Meanwhile, I will be chef this morning. Feel up to a bite?' He still frowned, gazing her way.
'Yes, thank you...'Emmeline's voice was weak and seemed oddly distant to her, as if it came from outside of herself. 'I, had a strange dream, is all.' She sipped her tea. 'Must have slept rather deeply, I seem to be having trouble waking.'
'Ah. I know how that is. I often do the same.' Daryl was whipping something up in a bowl. 'Corncakes should help. Won't be but a moment.' He'd a large iron skillet on the burner and poured the batter out in small rounds. Em inhaled the wholesome homey aroma.
'Jack would often make corn muffins for breakfast...'she mused,leaning her head on her hand.
Daryl said nothing, just flipped his flapjacks.
'Here's the teapot,'he refreshed her cup, and set out honey and syrup, some marmalade and butter. 'Oh, there's also...' he reached within the icebox in the butler's pantry, 'Some yogurt, if you like. I get the Russian yogurt from Yvanna on occasion.'
Em began to rally with her second cup, and as Daryl set a hot plate of corncakes before her, she tucked into them and began to feel more solid. 'Gracias, Diego...I'm feeling more myself now.'
It wasn't often Emmeline called him 'Diego'...it thrilled and disconcerted him. It was a feeling he'd been trying to avoid.
He grimaced slightly and took his own plate, seating himself at the opposite end of the table from her after pouring tea for himself.
'Care to speak of it?' he asked between bites, face a casual blank.
'What? Oh, the dream...' Em mused, wondering, well, why not? Her disclosures may spark his own. 'Well...'she sighed, pouring more tea. 'In a way, it is, in part, a recurring dream.'
'Oh?' He gazed at her, chewing slowly.
'Yes.'Em closed her eyes, trying to summon remembrance. 'It's somewhere familiar to me, although it's also someplace I'm sure I've never been!' She opened her eyes. 'I know that sounds odd.'
'No, not at all. The gypsies speak of it. Nostalgia for something you have not yet experienced. Can't recall their name for it now...'
'Yes! That's it exactly!' Em cleaned her plate and stood, taking it to the sink and refilled the teakettle, setting it on the stove. She gazed out the window over the sink. 'It is a dreamscape by the sea...but not like here, no big trees, not a lot of green. Farther inland there is, but not by the beach. Could it be an island, perhaps?' She wondered. 'Anyway...it's always the same place. But this time...I see someone different. Very different.' She paused. 'Someone I hadn't seen before.' She put a hand on the kettle handle and glanced at Daryl. 'Although...perhaps I had seen him, once, on Samhain night.'
Daryl put his fork down and sat back. He drank his tea and gazed out the window, frowning slightly. 'Indeed? At the druids' gathering?'
'No, not exactly...' The kettle began to boil. Em put fresh tea leaves in the pot and poured. She put a cozy over the pot, and held it with both hands. 'I saw him, in the cauldron.' She looked at Daryl.
His hand went to his forehead, then, he rubbed it and sighed.
'Indeed?'he asked at last.
'Yes.' Em carried the pot to table and set it upon the trivet,
taking her seat. She sighed, gazing down into her cup. 'I was walking along the beach...and a man approached from afar. As he drew closer, I recognized him, the same face and figure I saw in the cauldron.' Daryl looked at her, and waited. 'As he neared, I was happy to see him, and he, me. We embraced. He said to me, 'How do you fare, little one?'And then I awoke. Curious, isn't it?'
'Very.' Daryl poured for them both. 'Did you...see anyone else in the cauldron that night? '
'Yes.' Em paused. 'My mother.'
Daryl closed his eyes, breathed in. 'You did.' It wasn't a question.
'But the strangest thing was, Diego...the strange thing was...'Em found it hard to articulate. She took a sip. '...besides the fact that I felt I knew this man, very well;
we were close in the way that family or dear friends are close, although he seemed to be older, in a sense, but he didn't look at all aged, rather ageless in fact... He felt like a mentor to me, perhaps...anyway, there was something else very odd about our meeting...'
'Yes.' Daryl swallowed.
Em continued, 'Well, I could not possibly have known this person. Because, because...I could only reach this man, in my dream, by standing upon a dune. He was so very tall, and, well, unlike any person I have ever seen before.'She gazed beseechingly at Daryl.
'How so?' he rasped, taking tea.
'He must have stood...possibly eight feet tall.' Em stared. Then she smiled slightly, looked out the window. 'Of course, it was just a dream. All sorts of nonsense in dreams. Rather 'Alice In Wonderland', isn't it?'
Daryl inhaled and opened his mouth to speak, but just then Rosa bustled in the back door, carrying sacks of groceries. 'Ah, Rosa, welcome back! Let me help you...' Daryl rose and took the bags of produce from Rosa and set them upon the counters. Em stood and did up the dishes, whilst Rosa and Daryl put the food away. Suddenly life resumed it's normalcy, and the otherworldly spell of her intimate admissions faded into the active bustle of domestic habit.
But Daryl took up the tea pot upon a tray and placed their cups there as well. 'Let's finish our tea in my study, shall we?' His serious gaze brooked no debate.
                           . . . .
Emmeline drifted naturally to the window seat at the great bay windows, watching tendrils of fog creep slowly from the hillsides like a live thing. The fog seemed never so much a sort of deva or nature spirit of the city, somehow as intrinsic as it was endemic.
Daryl wheeled over a small cart with the tea tray upon it and situated himself at the opposite end of the window seat. Pouring for two, he also gazed outside and let his features grow calm,
perhaps absorbing some of the slow-moving spectral scene without.
'It actually came as rather a shock...'Em began, 'Not... seeing that man, particularly, but, well...I hadn't really expected to see anything in the cauldron, truly.'
'Your Pankhurst Druids never held the ancestoral communion ceremony?'
'Not as such, no. Or maybe I hadn't stayed that long. I know that other rituals went on late into the evening far beyond when I would stay.' Em looked at him. 'You knew of this ceremony then? Had participated before?'
He looked down. 'Knew of it, yes. Participated, no.' His eyes met hers. Emmeline was curious, of course, but she wasn't going to press him for his visions.
Daryl, perhaps sensing her curiousity, took a different tack suddenly. '...Ancestry, heredity, genetics...quite a fascinating science in itself. Study much of genetics in biology at school?'
He asked, drinking his tea and licking his mouth.
 Em directed her gaze back outdoors, clearing her throat. 'Nothing much beyond the basics...my friend Jethro back home tried to interest me in animal husbandry. That's my entire knowledge of genetics.'
Daryl inhaled. 'Much experimentation and development in the field of genetic research increased rather more expeditiously than wisely in the 21st century...'he began, flicking a glance her way. 'As did time travel, and along the lines of quantum physics, exploration of interdimensional travel.' He paused. Thankfully, thought Em, trying to keep up. He looked down, biting his lip in thought. 'Genetics, then. Genes.' He regarded her once more, and sighed. 'Gene-splicing. Does that phrase bring anything to mind?'
Actually, it did. Em found that if she just followed the sound of his voice... pictures would form in her mind and unbidden words which she almost, but not quite, knew the meaning of, would burst onto her mindscape.
'That's the Chip, in part.' Daryl nodded. 'As well as your own natual acumen and sensitivity, or rather, receptivity.' He glanced outside. 'A much esteemed scientist of the 20th century,  Dr. Einstein, said that genius lies in receptivity.' He regarded her intently. Em realized he had been reading her mind. She supposed she should be used to it.
'Yes. I know some artists, musicians claim that inspiration seems to come to them from without, as it were, when they remain open to it.'
'Exactly.' Daryl continued: 'You have this innate ability as well, Emmelina. As does Jack.' She was surprised to hear him even mention Jack, as he rarely, if ever, did. 'So. Gene-splicing occurs when...'he inhaled again, and paused...'...are you getting any pictures in your mind yet?'Lord and Lady,he flustered, how to explain to a young Victorian woman?
Em closed her eyes. 'I'm seeing a sortof figure-eight spiral, like a ladder that twists about itself.'
DNA, Daryl thought. Excellent. 'Yes, Em. That's a big part of it. We call it DNA, for deoxyriboneucleic acid. Genetic information via cells, chromosomes...cell-splicing, you could call it.' He swallowed. 'Basically, as in your animal husbandry, for instance, when a fertilized egg begins to form, it's a way of adding  yet another, or other, genetic material to the embryo. Creating a three-part or triad-based embryonic nucleus.' He licked his lips again, pouring more tea. His throat had gone quite dry.
Em opened her eyes. 'Interesting. So, you could breed a certain strain of, perhaps, sheep, with a ewe and the genetics of two different rams, say?'
Daryl exhaled. By george, she's got it. Thank the gods it didn't take too much detailed explanation. 'Yes, Em, excellent.'Now for the hard part. 'But, this procedure didn't have to be confined to animal husbandry alone.' Please stay with me on this, Em.
'Oh.' Em had a curious, creeping sensation begin rather like chills up her spine. She wasn't certain she was following, or wanted to.
Daryl stood then, and walked over to his desk, licking his lips and running a hand through his hair, and he slowly paced about the desk. 'Ah, yes. Certain...experiments yielded successful results using human subjects as well.'
Diosa! Lord and Lady, (plus Lord, makes three!) Em thought. Was Daryl trying to tell her what she thought he was trying to tell her...? 'You mean...a child of one mother, could, could have two fathers?'
Daryl ceased pacing and closed his eyes. 'Yes, Em. That is exactly what I mean.'
Diosa...Emmeline was officially in shock now. Her mind went blank. No pictures whatsoever. She wasn't about to allow that!
Daryl intimated her distress. 'Emmelina, it isn't as bad as you are thinking! It's, not, not like that! It's only a very small bit of genetic material taken from the third party! And, it happens after the embryo has begun to form! And, there is no, no congress...no physical relations between the third party and the mother!' He ran a sweaty palm through his hair. Mercy, surely parents who had to explain facts of life to a child never had to jump through such convoluted hoops.
'...I...I...'Em stammered. She didn't know what to think. 'Ohhh...'She shook her head slowly.
Daryl came and sat beside her. 'Em...'He wasn't good at mentoring young women. Or anyone really. Hadn't even been a decent uncle. He tentatively took her hand. 'It's alright, Emmelina. I know it's rather a lot to...digest right off the bat like this...' She looked at him,in dazed stupification. He was nodding. 'It's hard to...think about. Don't. Don't even try.
Just, let what we've discussed sort of...float, for now.' She rolled her eyes and hung her head shaking it slowly. He looked around into her face. 'Em? Would you care for some brandy perhaps? Some strong coffee? ...Opium?'
She looked at him and saw he was smiling. 'Oh, Daryl...'she began to laugh softly. 'I don't know...'
He patted her hand. 'You'll be alright.' He stood, placing a hand on her shoulder. 'I'll be right back!' He held a finger in the air, and exited.
Oh, goddess...she didn't know what to think. What could she think? Could she believe it? But, what would that mean?...how would that explain her father's animosity? If there had been no, nothing physical between the 'third party' as Daryl so delicately put it...then...then...
Emmeline had a sudden epiphany. She hadn't seen her father in the ancestral cauldron. She saw only her mother, and...He...that strange man whom she'd met on the beach...
Daryl re-entered the study, closing the door softly and carried two brandy snifters with him. Emmeline's he had spiked judiciously with a bit of laudanum. 'Here. Universal remedy for sudden shocks to the system.' He held up his glass and raised an eyebrow with a small smile. She blinked slowly and touched her glass to his, and drank a sip. Brandy after breakfast. Wuf! Luckily, it was very smooth.
Daryl said nothing, just sat companionably beside her. They sipped silently awhile, staring out at the city beyond, now clear of fog. How the mist-free scenery echoed her own mind, now swept clear of illusion.
'The man at the beach,' Emmeline began. 'The man I saw in the cauldron...'she looked at Daryl who met her gaze with open countenance. 'He was, is, my father.'
Daryl nodded.
'But...I'm trying to follow all this...why then?...'Her brow knotted together, '...Oh, Daryl, why did I not see my father in the cauldron?'
'You did not?'
'No, just he, the tall fair man, and my mother.'
Daryl looked down, a slight grimace. He tapped his brandy glass with a finger.
'Oh, Daryl...no.' Em began to allow the incredible to sink into her ratiocinations. 'My father...was just the '3rd Party' as you call it;the 3rd Man.'Oh, merciful Isis, Em thought. That explains rather alot... Why he would have held her in such antipathy;'anti-Em-etic'as she would cruelly tease herself...
His wife had had a child, and he'd not been there for the conception. Oh dear.
Daryl only sighed. Then looked at her, somewhat sadly.
'So this...triad, Daryl...can it come about without the 3rd party's knowledge?' She riveted him with her hard gaze.
'Yes, it can. And did. Does.'
Em was incensed. Such unwarranted pain this had caused her, and her family! 'How could people, scientists have allowed this? It's...inhuman!'
Daryl's face went quite pale and he stood then, tossing back his brandy. 'It...was done, rather in secret, Emmelina...that's why they used the 3rd partys' genetics at all...so the child would resemble the father, and, in most cases, no one would be the wiser.' He began to pace again, a hand running through his hair. He seemed quite at a loss.
This mollified Em not at all. 'Unless the parents, the wife and husband had not...been intimate.'
Daryl cleared his throat. 'Quite.'
'Still!' Em stood now, shaking slightly. 'How could this be allowed? Have 21st century people no morals, no ethics? No sense of human decency?'
Not much, thought Daryl somberly. 'Actually, Em, not alot, to tell you the truth of it. However...' Gods, how to say it? 'Ah...although our scientists became involved in this, eventually, they hadn't much to do with it in it's inception.'
'They...?' Em puzzled, feeling the laudanum now, 'What do you mean 'our' scientists? The perpetrators were foreigners, then?'
He looked at her. 'Of a sort.' No, she wasn't ready for this. Neither was he! 'Look, Em, you've had enough of a shock for now, don't you think?' He went to a closet and took a thick folded type of quilt, a comforter he called it, and a pillow.
'The brandy...it will help. Just, have a seat, filla, and try to relax. Let it all sortof gel for abit, and, and give your mind a rest, yes?' He set the bedding down and motioned for her to sit.
'These cushions are quite comfortable, you needn't go anywhere. I'll just be in the parlor. Have, take a little rest, yes?' He flustered, running a hand through his hair, ala Jack.
Apparently, the disclosure was at an end. She sat. Truly, though, she'd had more than enough already. She saw Daryl slip through the door and shut it quietly. So, he'd enough as well, she thought with a wry, small smile. Oh how her head spun with all this mad information declaration...
She drank her cognac like a good little girl.
                          . . . .
Emmeline awoke in Daryl's study, lying  on the window seat, with the pillow at her head and the thick, fluffy comforter over her. No sign of Daryl about.
She tentatively raised her head, then thought better of that.
Ohhh, but her head pounded! That was supposed to be a remedy?
She groaned softly and rubbed between her brows...diosa what a day already...what could the time be?
Eventually, she mustered the wherewithall to rise and carrying her head upon her shoulders like a giant, throbbing calabasa, she shuffled into the kitchen. Rosa was busy with dinner preparations.
'Coffee...' Em muttered, rummaging about the cupboards. Rosa shot her a glance and smiled. 'Just sit, Emmelina...I can make it. Don Diego told me you were feeling not so well.'
Em sat on a kitchen stool, leaning her head against the wall behind her. Rosa set a cup of coffee before her, as well as a small teacup. 'Willow bark tea. Also good for headache!'
Emmeline drank both, and poured more caffeine. She leaned over and took a mandarin orange and began to peel.'Gracias, Rosa,'she croaked.
'Ah, da nada, Em...'She stole a look at her over her mixing bowl. 'Men, you know...they mean well, but sometimes, what is a remedy to them, is a big headache for us females!'
Men in general could be a big headache for us females thought Emmeline grumpily. 'How'd you know?'
'Don Diego brought in two empty brandy glasses. About 11 a.m.!'
Rosa smiled as she put the mix in a casserole dish and set it in the oven to bake.
'Ohhhh...Rosa, please don't think I am prone to taking brandy in the mornings!'
'Of course not, Em!' Rosa put her hands on her hips, then poured a cup of coffee for herself and sat on the stool across from Em.
'Don Diego...ah...he has been a bachelor, always, you know. A man alone. He hasn't lived with many other women, much less children.'She shook her head slowly. 'He has not much experience with taking care of others. Perhaps not even of himself... He would be lost without someone like me!' She looked up at Em. 'He is trying to learn though. Trying, to take care of you, Emmelina. In his own odd way.'
Em considered this novel angle.'Where is he now? Did he leave for the day?' She was beginning to feel somewhat more human.
'Oh, no. He is in his garden, puttering...'
Daryl. A 'putterer'. Hm. This Em had to see...
                             . . . .
The late autumn sun was heading behind the hills already, Em noted with casual surprise. She had brought her coffee with her, as well as a cup for Daryl.
He was sitting upon an overturned bucket, digging. Em smiled to herself, edging up alongside. She stood watching a moment. Daryl at last looked up, taking note.
Em held out the cup. 'Hello. Brought you coffee.'
He shook the dirt from his gloves. 'Thanks.'
Em took a look at the mostly denuded garden. Some cabbages, lean broccoli plants, peppers of course, still robust. Cherry tomatoes and squash. 'Must have been nice, in season, eh?' She noted tall stalks of where sunflowers must have stood against the house.
He took a sip of java. 'It was alright. For a city plot.'He sat, knees splayed, nearly up to his shoulders. Em thought it must be awkward for a tall person to work close to the ground.She looked about and decided the wood framing the raised beds would hold her petite self, sat down.
He cleaned the clumps of damp earth from his trowel. 'Slept awhile, then?'
Em laughed shortly, took another gulp. 'I should say. No dreams, though.'
'Probably as well, take a break, eh?' He stood and pulled away the weeds he'd been working at, tossed them onto the compost heap framed in the corner.
'Laudanum, Daryl?' Emmeline came to the point. 'Truly?'
He spared a glance her way. 'Thought you could use it. Had a bit of a shock.' He kicked stray rocks away from the beds. 'It's in the bath, just off my study, if you ever have need of it.'
She exhaled forcefully. 'Suppose. Thanks.' He'd meant well. For a kidnapper. 'Are you Jack's father, then?'
Slowly, he raised his head and looked straight before him, his face a bland mask. He began to breathe hard. Emmeline wondered if she had gone rather too far. Must be the opiate talking...
At last, he sighed. 'It's...complicated.'
She snorted a laugh, shaking her head. 'More complicated than my story?'
He spared a hard glance from on high her way. 'Perhaps not. But haven't you rather had enough shocks for one day?' He divested himself of his gloves and slapped them against a post, turned and went back into the house, leaving her wondering.
"'I'm full of melody, but at a loss for words...I can't say anymore, you take my breath away...'"Emmeline softly sang an old favorite of Alice's as she watched the sun lower behind the western hills. The fog would soon return, or perhaps not. Maybe tonight would be clear. Emmeline watched the sky until the first stars appeared. A falling star, headed toward the east bay. That's odd,she thought,seeing it cease it's fall and continue on in a straight line. Enough for one night, indeed, she decided, and followed Daryl inside.
                             . . . .
Daryl decided to take his supper in his study, locking the door.
He could hear Emmeline practicing her mandolin in the parlor. Good, keep the lass busy awhile...he sighed. He'd had quite enough of disclosure for one day. Had he really believed he could give her all the information she needed without revealing anything of himself? Without revisiting his own dark past?  He crossed  to the small walnut cabinet and poured himself more cognac. His gaze went to the little brown bottle he'd left out...why not? It had been that sort of day. He tipped several drops within the amber liquid and inhaled. Gods knew he'd plenty he wished to forget. If only for a short while. Sweet liquid lobotomy...
He sat slumped in the red leather armchair and gazed out at another clear evening. Blessed night and soothing darkness, wrap me in your velvet song...he thanked whatever gods had given him this unhoped for escape from the madness and decay of the 21st century. Soft streetlights, the clip-clop of horse and carriage...he knew he was blessed;comparitively. He had escaped, as had Jack. It was the least he could have done for him.
..
And yet, was it his doing, or was it chance? Why...Daryl had asked himself again and again...why had he been so chosen? After
years of careful research, he believed it had to do with genetics; never mind his IQ of 180,give or take... Who knew by what criteria the gods decided one's fate?
'Whom the gods would destroy they first made mad.' Oh, he'd been there, alright. He took a long draw upon the brandy.
Somehow, he'd pulled himself back from the abyss, though. He watched the sky full of the odd points of light, hoping they would burn fairly steady. Another pull off the snifter and his hand reached out, groping for the bottle of French cognac. He splashed it into the glass and congratulated himself on a job well done, adding another drop or two from the smaller bottle. He'd brain cells to spare, hadn't he...?
Lying his head back, he ran a hand through his hair and regarded the night. Closing his eyes, he cast his mind back years...far too many to count. It had been ages, aeons ago, it seemed, and yet he could recall that night so long ago, as if it had been yesterday...
Mexico... Oh, he'd been a grand traveler, indeed. Thought he'd been about everywhere and had seen it all. He laughed, a hard, harsh sound. He now knew he had been but a microbe on the head of a pin. He was about to discover how big the universe was.
Multiverse. Multidimensional, multitudinal multiverse...
Slowly, slowly...he let the brandy course down his throat, savoring the burn...he could have wept for his young, idiot self about to be irrevocably enlightened.
There, in the shadow of Mt.Popocatapetl, that pyramid-shaped volcano, a Mexican Fuji-san silhouette against the purpling sky, young Daryl had camped, warming himself with tequila and wrapped up in his oilskin drover's coat and serapes against the evenings' encroaching chill; letting his campfire burn to coals and finishing off the last of his tamales...he lay against a log and listened to the coyotes' songs, yip yip in the night. Coyotes spoke a universal language, Daryl thought, still learning traveler's Espanol. He'd noticed  a  gypsy camp a good reach from the mountain and could just make out the dim spikes of their campfire lights in the far distance. He'd crossed their camp en route to the mountain's base and in passing gleaned from them that they wished not to come too close to Mt. Popo. It was haunted they said, or words to that effect. Some of the old women made signs to ward off the evil eye in that direction.
Ah, but he was lucky he wasn't a gypsy, then, he thought, crossing his long legs. He regarded Popo and decided he rather liked the old volcano. He'd always felt an affinity for mountains...each one had it's own personality; some were male, some female, and some were something beyond either. He'd been caught in a thunderstorm on Mt. Tahoma once, up in Washington, and had quickly developed a healthy respect for lightning then, having come within scant feet of nearly being singed to cinders.
Old Tahoma, definately male. Not one to mess with. Beautiful, though. He sighed, contented to be in Mehico, and comparitively warm and dry and safe. So he thought.
Dozing, he watched the stars swirling about Popo...hm, weren't stars supposed to be fairly stationary...? He lifted the tequila bottle. Still plenty left, it wasn't just the cactus juice, then. He sat up and tilted his hat back. He squinted at the mountain's peak, seeing several bright lights dash crazily in zig zags like they were playing a game of tag. This was getting to be truly bizarre, Daryl thought, becoming suddenly sober. He grabbed his canteen, drank and splashed water on his face and rubbed hard. Wiping his eyes with his bandana, he gazed once more, but damn if the light show wasn't still in progress, and even more unsettling--red, blue, amber lights spun about Popo's peak zipping around each other, some diving into the crater itself, and reappearing...making 90 degree turns in a flash instant. Daryl no longer felt as contented with his campsite.
Suddenly, three of the lights aligned themselves in a triangle formation. He couldn't help but stare, awestruck. Then, to his amazement and dread, the lights began to streak toward him, moving almost instantaneously. Above him, they again formed a triad and pulsed red, blue, and amber. He held his arm up as a shield against the brightness, that he may see in better detail, when the three lights appeared to merge into one large whitish-blue blaze of humming energy and then--
*FLASH*
--Daryl found himself engulfed in a sea of radiance.
Had lightning found it's mark after all? was his final thought before he blacked out and knew no more.
                               . . . .
Daryl smelled smoke. Woodsmoke, the smells of cookfires. He hurt all over. Had he been ill? Where was he?
He tipped his wide hatbrim back and opened a tentative eye.
He was in a camp of sorts, campfires about, he spied a few people, men, women, kids and dogs...wagons. Somewhere in the distance a guitar played softly. Was this the gypsy camp?
He tried to sit and coughed, finding it hard to stop. Deep, wracking coughs... His head felt like lead. Strike that; like a cannonball. An old woman came to his side, smiling, missing a tooth. She handed him a tin cup of hot liquid.
He drank. Diosa, it was bitter! But his body instinctively knew he needed it. He drank the entire cup. 'Gracias, senora...'he managed a croak.
She leaned back, hands on hips. 'Gorgios! Idiota!' She smiled at the Idiot. She pointed to the sky. 'Luz! Peligro!' She shook her head, and walked off, muttering, 'Idiota...'
"Dangerous Lights" Daryl knew. "Idiot" he knew as well. Hm. That about said it all, indeed. He tried to prop himself in a sitting position. He saw the old lady bent over a cookpot, dishing a stew into a wooden bowl. This she brought to him with a wide wooden spoon.
He bowed his head, 'Gracias...muchas gracias...' He was hungry, but, when he tasted the stew...rabbit, probably, with herbs, some root vegetables, greens...it tasted wonderful, but his stomach wasn't easily convinced of it. He had to go very slowly and eat small bites with long pauses. He looked about, found his canteen, and drank. Gods he was thirsty...his head felt on fire...
It was then he noticed his hands. They were bright red. That, in part, was what hurt. How had he gotten a sunburn? At night?
Luz. Peligro.
                        . . . .
Night. Nob Hill.
 Daryl raised his head from where it had fallen to his chest. His brandy glass, empty, had fallen from his hand as well, and lay on the rug. "Memories...are made of this..." he sang, slurring as he laughed low and sardonically... Most of his memories of late, were made bearable by liberal applications of brandy and opium, he had to admit. He rather preferred forgetting to remembering.
"...what potions have I drunk of Siren tears,
Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within
Applying fears to hopes and hopes to fears
Still losing when I saw myself win!
"What wretched errors hath my heart committed
Whilst it had thought itself so blessed never!
How mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted
In the distraction of this madding fever..."
He heard the parlor clock strike twelve; the house otherwise silent now. Basta, enough for today. He'd traveled far, sitting here.
Daryl roused himself and stumbled off to bed...
Strange, how far one can travel, just sitting in one place.
                       . . . .
 Em awoke to another bright morning. Now that autumn was here, the bay area wore a new sunny outlook. Emmeline herself felt much finer after her long periods of rest. Caramba! Market day today! She'd nearly forgotten with all that she'd been through of late...
She had gotten a missive from Jack, (via the prolific Yeats in the  800s) along with a belated birthday card as well last week, asking her to meet him in the mercado today, for a 'long walk'; with an apology for not contacting her sooner. She intimated what the 'long walk' meant...
                           . . . .
By now, Rosa knew Emmelina's fondness for the mercado was not solely due to calabasas...and, without actually saying anything, the two women worked together to enable Em to slip away from the usually watchful gaze of Manuel for awhile.
Today the three were sauntering about the park and vendor's stalls, and Em was telling Manuel again, how much she liked her birthday gift of the wooden Knight/Horse Head sculpture. 'You have a real talent, Manuel! And don Diego would sell your works in his shop...'
Manuel smiled slightly but said nothing. Then he sighed. 'Ah, Emmelina...that was a special gift. Just for you.' He stole a small glance her  way. It was not often Manuel became at all loquacious. 'Do you know its' meaning?'
An odd question, thought Em. 'As a chess piece, you mean?'
He held his head sideways, quizzically. 'Not only that, although in part, certainly. And you have to take into consideration the chessboard as well, the black, and the white.' My, Manuel was waxing philosophical! Even Rosa glanced at him with eyebrows raised. 'But the word: 'horse'--what does it remind you of?--Just the sound of it?'
Em had to become used to constant surprises, it appeared. 'Hmmm...'
'Think, Emmelina..."Que hora es?"
'What is the time?' Em looked at him?
'Si. "hora" -- "horse". And, the horse is transportation, no? A way to get one from there to here. "Hora" meaning "time", si?' Manuel just looked straight ahead, walking along. 'Ah, Rosa, here are our musicians! It is Time, for our Sunday concerta!'
Rosa's eyes went wide as she looked at Emmelina, then taking Manuel's arm, the two walked over to the fountain and settled themselves beside it, to enjoy the music as was becomming their custom.
 Em turned to make for the big oak tree and trysting place...horse...to travel, and hora, time. Ah, there is more than meets el ojo to Manuel, indeed, thought Emmeline.
                         . . . .
There stood Jack, holding a single red rose.
This he presented to her, and Em took it smiling. She knew better than to enquire of him, whence came roses in winter...
'Happy Birthday,' he whispered, kissing her cheek.
'Thank you.' She held it to her nose, and surprisingly for once, it had a luscious scent. 'It's lovely.'
'Lovely,'Jack agreed, gazing at her.
'I've so much to tell you, Jack...it's rather hard for me to believe. I don't know if it clarifies anything or just confuses  everything, as yet... But, it is worth knowing.' She looked up at him, inquiringly.
'Of course. Let's just...'he put an arm about her shoulder and steered her behind the oak. Glancing about, to make sure they weren't observed, he smiled and nodded to her, taking her hand.
Darkness.
 It was still disconcerting to Emmeline to suddenly feel no ground beneath her feet and see nothing about her, knowing only the touch of Jack's hand, which she gripped tightly, afraid to lose her only hold upon the world...
And then, Crowley House, and the parlor, a small fire burning there. And just the two of them this time, it seemed.
'Alright, Em?' Jack asked, peering into her face.
'Will be, I believe!' Emmeline tried to orient herself.
'Here, take a seat. I'll just bring tea, eh?' He guided her to the sofa and went off into the kitchen and rattled about a moment, reappearing with tea tray in hand.
'I'd anticipated...kept the water on the stove, hot.' He smiled, sitting next to Em. 'Well! So, Yeats and Al are off to town for some time. We can relax and have a chat, eh?' Jack sat back, crossing his long legs.
A chat, Em thought. She exhaled. If only it was just small talk and carefree...diosa, where to begin?
At the beginning, Em supposed. As she related her dream to Jack, as well as the evening's revelations via the druid's cauldron, Jack listened attentively, not saying anything. He poured their tea and Em took a sip of courage and soldiered on...faltering somewhat when she came to disclosure surrounding the genetic tinkering and it's implications.
 Em exhaled at last. 'If, any of it's true, at least it would explain why my father was so distant. Although, I must admit, there is much that I really do not understand...'
Throughout it all, Jack said not a word. He was sitting forward now, elbows on his knees and holding his tea, staring at it like he didn't know what it was. He set it down.
 He stood then and began, like Daryl, to pace, hands on his hips behind him as if to propel himself forward, head down. He wandered rather aimlessly about the parlor and hallway, looking over at Em occasionally, but saying nothing.
At last he stopped at the fireplace and leaned an arm upon the mantlepiece, sighing, looking into the dying fire.
"Yes your parents are dead, Jack," Daryl had told him, emerging from his infernal flames here on that night long past...
And: "Your father lives, and loves you very much."
Jack had wondered at these contradictory statements then.
 He gazed slowly over to Emmeline and regarded her, frowning.
'There is...something...in all of this, that could account for some of my own family mysteries.' He paused. 'Somewhat.'
Em waited, not wishing to prod. They had, apparently, Time.
Jack sighed again,softly,and resumed his seat beside Em. 'I have inherited a genetic trait, a marker, that Daryl has as well. My father, however, Drake, does not have this trait. It has never been present in my mother's family.'
He stared into her eyes. She met his gaze steadily, nodding slightly. He frowned again, and looked away. 'It, I suppose, it could be...'he faltered. He hung his head, forelock falling over his eyes, 'It could be...the reason why...Drake hated Daryl so. And why Daryl absented himself. And, why Sarah, my mother,never ceased trying to bring the warring brothers together, knowing neither was at fault...' He looked up, out the windows.
A sharp intake of breath. He ran his hands through his hair. 'I was sent away to schools, always sent off, out of Drake's sight, I suppose. My father wasn't unfeeling as yours was, Em, but, he wished to keep me at a distance. As much as possible...'
'But, surely...'Em began, not knowing quite how to broach such a delicate subject, 'Surely he and your mother were close, yes? And Daryl, only the 3rd Party...?'
'Yes. I believe that's true. However, Em, even in 2076, these things are kept sub rosa...only rumors of this sort of thing are ever mentioned, usually on the fringes of speculative research, and not really taken seriously by many. At least outwardly.' He leaned forward again, clasping his hands together. 'But that marker, that trait...must have given Drake pause. He wasn't a geneticist, or a scientist. He was a businessman, import-export, the diamond trade...' Jack bit his lip. 'Not blood-diamonds! That's the bloody de Beers, the old Dutch robber barons in Africa, with their wretched treatment of people there,starting wars, raping and pillaging the land for riches for only the wealthy few. No, Drake steered clear. In fact...'
Jack stood then and went to the secretary desk, opening the lid and taking a key, unlocked a small drawer. He removed a small black velvet box, and a velvet bag, and closed up, returning to Emmeline's side.
'What my family did, was to deal mostly in various gemstones, and domestic diamonds, from Arkensas, chiefly for industrial use, as well as those from New York State. Have you ever heard of Herkimers, Emmeline?' He stared at the bag he had in hand, smiling distractedly.
'Herkimer diamonds? Perhaps I haven't.' Emmeline was fascinated
with Jacks' revelations regarding his background for once.
Jack opened the bag and looked at Emmeline, smiling still. 'Open your hands, cup them together...' She obeyed. Jack poured the contents out, scattering crystals of various sizes into her palms.
'Oh, Jack! They're lovely!' Em bent closer studying them. 'Are they really diamonds? They're so large, some of them!'
'Of a sort. They're crystals, really. Notice they're double-terminated. That's how you can tell they're  genuine; from the Herkimer area of New York, a small cordillera there.'
'Are they expensive?' Em held one up to the light, turning it.
'Not really. Worth a little more than quartz crystals. Some people believe they have special...esoteric powers, though.' He grinned at her.
'Truly?' Em smiled, enchanted. 'I believe it. They grow this way naturally? How wonderful...'
'I'm glad you like them.' Jack had always loved the Herkimers. He felt a kinship with these crystals, native to the same area as he. He took a deep breath. 'In fact...'
 He held out the small black velvet box.
'Happy Birthday, Emmeline.'
Em looked at him, then smiled. She opened the little box.
'Ohh...' She lifted out a Herkimer diamond on a delicate silver chain, in a silver setting flanked by two small opals on either side.
Jack pointed out the opals. 'Your birthstones. Didn't think I knew, did you?' He grinned. 'Hope you like it, Em.'
She didn't know what to say. It was a gorgeous gift!
'Oh, Jack...it's incredibly beautiful! Thank you!' She looked at him, her eyes shining. 'Help fasten it for me, would you please?'
He did so, and was pleased with the effect; the opals seemed to reflect the light of her red hair, which she'd left unbound.
Em touched it then looked up at him smiling. She reached up and taking his cheek, planted a soft kiss upon his waiting lips. They smiled at one another. His finger traced her lips, his gaze yearning. She clasped his hand and brought it about her neck, as she put her arms around him and pulled him to her. They fell against the back of the sofa and gave in to their pent-up want, held in check for how long? Was it merely hours, days, or had it been months, really? All that mattered was Now.
They parted after a time, and caught their breath.
'...I think I'm beginning to feel that esoteric power already...'Emmeline grinned, looking up through her lashes at Jack.
'So am I.' He hugged her to him. 'Oh, Em...how I've missed you.
If only we could spend our days together like this! Not always, I know...'he held her apart, gazing into her blue-green eyes,
'I'd never hold you down, hold you back from anything you wished to do, anywhere you wish to go! I love that in you, Em; your free spirit. It's because I'm much the same way myself...'
'Apparently...we've much in common,'Em said, pensively, looking at her necklace, turning it in the light. 'More than we ever knew...'
He knew she was thinking of all the recent disclosures...
'Yes. We've both had to live with secrets, and so much of the same complicated family relations, despite the time difference, we've led nearly parallel lives, Emmeline.'
She looked at him, afraid this was so. She stared at the diamonds on the tea tray, ran her fingers through them...possibly, that's partly what Daryl was trying to tell her; to inform her of their consanguinity and to warn her that their genetics were coveted. 'I know who your enemies are,' Daryl had intimated.
'Jack...'She was serious now. 'I believe Daryl was trying to warn me, by telling me all of this.'
'But why kidnap you, Em? I do not trust Daryl, and you most certainly should not!' Jack was adamant, sitting back and frowning.
'I don't know...there's still much we don't know...' Em frowned as well, trying to think. And what of that photo, of her parents and Daryl? How did all that fit in? 'There are mysteries I would still wish to find out about, Jack.'
Jack was quiet, gazing at the floor.
Emmeline knew what she wanted though. A certain crossroads had been reached and she knew which path to take.
 She took his hands in hers. 'But I do wish we had more times like these...just to live, Jack! And enjoy the days, and each other's company...together.' She blushed. Was she propositioning Jack now?
He gathered her in his arms. 'Do you mean that, Em? Don't give me false hope.'
She looked at him earnestly. 'I wouldn't, Jack. Not after all we've both had to go though!  I think we deserve a little happiness, for a change, don't you?' She smiled, tentatively.
For an answer, Jack kissed her, deeply....he gathered her hair in his hand and pulled her head back, looking into her eyes, trying to read her. He must have liked what he saw there, for he kissed her again, long and hard and they melted together, as if made for one another.
Suddenly, something soft was slinking around her ankles. 'Ah! Oh, my...it's just  Alice! ...saying hello...' Em's heart was in her mouth, beating quite the staccato.
'Figures, perfect timing,'growled Jack, not wanting to waste a minute.
'There is one thing, Jack...'
He sighed and sat back, letting the moment go. Cats. He'd have to remember to close off the pet door next time.
'Yes, Em?' He took her loose ringlets in hand, toying with them.
'If...if I come to stay here, with you, perhaps soon...' Em began, 'Well, would that still be alright, then?'
Jack laughed. 'Good night, girl! Must you ask, truly? ...Let me show you...' he leaned in for more...'...just how alright it would be...' He showed her.
Em sighed, taking a breath. 'That's very alright, Jack, dear...'
She called him dear! Finally!...Jack leaned into her hair, breathing in her scent, as Alice joined them on the sofa. 'Three's a crowd, cat!' Jack told her.
'Oh, Alice must learn to share you, now,'Em petted her softly.
'But, seriously, Jack, there are some things that I want answers to first!'
Jack sighed. He looked at her. 'You weren't going to tease, remember?'
'No, not at all! But...I can't just...stay here, just like that! For one thing, what's to keep Daryl from abducting me again? No, we have to come to an understanding. I think we're getting there.
And, well, I must tie up a couple of other loose ends...'Em thought of Sophie...she couldn't just leave the girl, now that she'd reached out to Em and agreed to tutoring. She'd work something out there...
'Alright,' Jack sighed. 'Tie those ends up then, but make it quick, Em?' He touched her cheek, then began to massage her neck,  knowing how she loved a good rub. So did he...
'Tell you what. The druids are having their big Solstice Ball in the City. By then, surely I'll have everything sorted, Jack.' This seemed a perfect compromise. She took his hand. 'Come to the ball with me, Jack?'
'I'd love nothing better. And afterwards...?'
'Then we'll come home here, to Crowley House,the two of us, together.'
'No Daryl?'
'He'll be sorted.'
'Good. He needs it.' Jack kissed her, sealing the deal. 'So, a ball you say?'
'Yes. The Solstice Ball. All the druids from far and near attend, or so I've heard...I know the Pankhurst clan would come to the city then. It's a grand gathering...'
'I see... Music, dance, celebration...that sort of thing?' Jack was smiling, holding her close. Ah, at  last, Em was to come home to him.  He'd wear a powdered wig then, if need be...
'Probably, yes. You've never attended a solstice celebration, other than ours last year?' Em remembered. It seemed years ago, not just one.
'Don't believe I have...need I bring anything special? Wear a wig?'
She looked at him, eyes wide. 'Not unless you want to wear one!' She blinked. 'I'd prefer it if you don't!' He took her hand, kissed it. 'I love your hair, Jack, just as it is...wild and free...'
'Wild is it? Yes, I suppose it can be.'
'We shall bedeck ourselves when we arrive, and weave crowns of holly and ivy, evergreens and ribbon, whatever you like...and join the procession to follow the Sun and sing her back to us, and carol throughout the neighborhood...and then,it's back to the bonfire to
celebrate the Sun's return at long last. And drink hot mulled wine and cider. And, yes, we shall make music and dance...'Em leaned against Jack, he so warm, and closed her eyes, wishing not to stir, not really...she held her Herkimer and warmed it in her palm.
'Sounds marvellous. We'll make it our year, this next one, yes? We shall make it what we will, together.' He lay his head against the top of hers, ebony upon crimson.
'Yes. We've something to look forward to now.'
He kissed the top of her head. 'We do.'At long last, thought Jack.
Finally, they would be together. Til the end of Time.
                           .....