Vellum and Green Vitriol
Copyright © 2007, S. Y. Affolee
The First Conjuration
Seal VI
The cat that was not a cat rubbed against my left leg and purred. Images poured into my head. I covered my eyes. The small beast was hungry.
I stalked out of the study in search of a kitchen. It was down a short hall. After a bit of searching, I found a milk bottle in an ice chest and a saucer from one of the cupboards. Once I had poured the milk and set it on the floor, the cat briefly sniffed at it before contentedly lapping the liquid up with a small pink tongue.
"Why do you have to complicate things?" I asked the cat. "Couldn't you have just remained what you were?"
"Remained what, who?"
I looked up to see Rhys standing in the kitchen doorway, changed into a casual dark gray traveling suit. He had even shaved. But whether he looked like a rumpled professor or a civilized gentleman, it was all a façade.
"What?" he demanded. "Did I misbutton my shirt or something?"
"Uh, no. Your shirt is fine. I just want to say that this is not my fault that one of your books Turned."
His gaze flickered towards the cat, which amazingly ignored his presence. "You mean Thor? He comes and goes as he pleases. Sometimes he's a book. Sometimes he's not. I have no control over him."
I looked from him, to the cat, and then him again. "His name is Thor? After the Norse god?"
"Don't knock the name. It's actually more accurate than you can imagine."
"All right," I replied, not hiding my skepticism. "So you're just going to leave him here while you go gallivanting to Greenglass?"
"Thor can take care of himself." When Thor was finished with his milk, he raced off to who knows where. Rhys bent down to take the saucer and rinsed it before putting it back on a rack. "You seem particularly worried about his welfare. Are you partial to animals?"
"I'm not a pet kind of person." I never kept pets because their lives were so short. "The cat just surprised me, that's all. I did not know that books could turn into animals."
"They could. It all depends on the sacrifice." His eyes had turned into a dark green.
I averted my gaze, thinking about the blood I saw on his spine. "An animal sacrifice, then."
He didn't confirm or deny. He simply said, "The sacrifice may be a very long time ago, but you never forget, do you? Just a mirror is a reminder."
"We should get to the train station," I said, not caring if the subject change was too obvious. I didn't want to think about his remarks. They dredged up very bad memories. Not my memories, but over the years they have somewhat become mine. I didn't want to think about that either.
"So there is an earlier train." His voice took on a light, teasing tone. "It's not even noon yet."
"No there isn't. I want to get there with enough time to spare so that we'd be able to get tickets. I'm not sure how crowded the trains are at this time of year, but I know that in the summer, one has to practically call ahead for reservations since everyone is on a summer vacation."
* * *
Grand Central in Colchester was a mix of ancient classical and art deco. Inside the station, pale marble floors gleamed, punctuated periodically by ridged columns. Wide glass windows let in the noon sunlight, washing everything with a golden glow. Travelers bustled purposefully from one platform to another just as the twelve-fifteen to Birmingham pulled out with a rumble and a whistle of steam.
"What do you mean there's only one berth left on the Midland to Greenglass?" I repeated, pitching my voice above the crowd and the departing train.
The cashier at the window wiggled his pencil-thin mustache at me. Ugh. What was with fashion these days? The man looked like a weasel. "Sorry, Miss. Only one berth. Otherwise, the two o'clock is completely booked. Of course, the berth does hold up to four people."
"If you want to be squashed like sardines."
"Come on, Ana, how hard can it be?" I turned to glare at Rhys. "It's just an overnight. Think of it as being on a bookshelf."
"A very crowded bookshelf." I turned back to the cashier who gave me an oily smile. "All right, we'll share a berth. But if anything happens, I hold you responsible."
"Oh nice," Rhys remarked as I came away from the cashier window with two tickets. "I'm sure your threats have me shaking in my shoes."
"Empty threats." I sighed and turned toward the platform. "We have about two hours until departure. I thought I saw a small café over near the south entrance. Sandwiches and coffee, I think."
"You're hungry again?"
"Would you want me to pretend I'm not?" I said as we slowly made our way past the crowd. "I think this current fashion for being waif thin is ridiculous. But at least there is one upside to the whole thing."
"What's that?"
"No corset."
"What's wrong with a corset?" I saw a few older people give us strange glances. Maybe talking about undergarments was probably not the thing to do.
But did I care? Stupid social conventions. "Have you ever worn a corset?"
"Er..."
"It's like being in a vise. You can't breathe."
"Well, books don't have to breathe."
I caught sight of the café, which looked like a small dark stand among a sea of people, all with the same idea for getting lunch. "Sure, books don't have to breathe. But neither can they walk. It's a trade off--be a book and you don't have to breathe, but you sacrifice movement. You're susceptible to the same things regular paper are. If you're a person, you must breathe, eat, and sleep, but you can move. You can talk and interact with other people."
"Since you put it that way, I suppose there are pleasures as a person that I would be very hesitant to give up on."
The end of the line to the café food stand curved around a few wrought iron tables, all filled with travelers. Nearby, a toddler decided to throw a tantrum. "Mass transportation," I muttered, mostly to myself. "If only the mass of it weren't so massive."
"It does seem a bit unusual, doesn't it?" Rhys remarked, loud enough to be heard over the toddler's screams. "One would think that this time of year wouldn't be so crowded. Is everyone going on a holiday?"
"Of course it is a holiday." A thick looking woman in a fur-lined coat turned to eye me skeptically, but she smiled at Rhys. "You haven't paid any attention to the calendar, have you? Samhain and All Hallow's Eve are coming up. Everyone is trying to get to Cairnpapple. Of course, there is no train there, so everyone takes the East-West to Birmingham or the Midland to Greenglass and then drive there."
"Cairnpapple?" I frowned. "What is exactly in Cairnpapple? Standing stones? I don't really see why that would be of any importance."
"She's not very bright, is she?" the woman said to Rhys.
"Just a bit slow," he replied.
I clenched a gloved fist. "All right. Since you know so much about it, tell me about the importance of Cairnpapple."
"It's an ancient burial site, supposedly the resting place of an ancient Celtic god-king," said Rhys, sounding very much like the professor I had originally pegged him as. "Pagans and spiritualists claim that it is the center of a powerful crossroads of ley lines. It's supposedly most powerful during Samhain."
"Not supposedly," the woman interrupted. "It is so. I've been to Cairnpapple many times and I have literally felt the power there--but then again, I'm a medium, so I am especially sensitive to it."
"Oh. Well, I guess we will have to bow to your expertise, ma'am," I said.
She glanced at me, narrow-eyed. "You're an unbeliever."
"I'm not saying I disbelieve anything," I replied. "I just think that everything will be explained in a reasonably scientific manner. Eventually. Even if it's many centuries in the future."
"You're one of those Rationalists!" The woman huffed and turned her back on me.
"Being rational is wrong?"
Rhys chuckled. "Really, Ana. You of all people should know not to bring science into these kinds of conversations. Some people are entrenched into one way of thinking and will hold on to it tenaciously, even when evidence of the contrary is staring them in the face."
"That's so..." I let out a breath. "I give up. I'm never going to understand people."
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