Chapter 13


    Elizabeth Eddison


    April


    Elizabeth wrote with careful purpose in a notebook, turning the ring from AJ with her other hand and nodding her head to the music emanating from her computer across the room. It was  Der Rosenkavalier , an opera she hadn’t heard before. She was listening to it in German, a language she did not understand, but even so, she occasionally put down the notebook and just listened.


    She wrote for a while, soaking in the smell of pine, the soft music, the  atmosphere . Elizabeth enjoyed the act of sitting there and writing, even if at times she did not enjoy what she wrote. She glanced every so often at the book currently kindling a flame in her heart,  Paradise Lost . It rested atop a collection by Edna St. Vincent Millay, another of her favorites. Sometimes her gaze roved around at the books on the shelves. She had read most of them, and she knew them well. Each produced a flicker of thought, of memory, of emotion. Sometimes it overwhelmed her, as if each book were an individual flame which, conjoined with those around it, created a blazing inferno that walled her in.


    Elizabeth loved poetry, but she recognized her own as unimpressive, to put it kindly. Inadequate. Anodyne. Hers was a pale candle next to, say, the fires of Milton. (John, not Isaac. Obviously.)


    There was nothing to do but continue. In the absence of other options, press on. That was all she had—to keep trying. That’s what Joan of Arc would do.


    Her phone vibrated. She considered ignoring it. She only wanted to write. Yet the thought nagged at her that something odd was going on. Kate had been acting stranger than usual, and Isaac talking about some crack in the sky…


    It was from Eric.


    EW: yo


    EW: sup


    EE: I hear that Heidi will soon be making an appearance at   your residence?


    EW: whoa i guess


    EW: this is like news to me too i just heard yesterday


    EW: kate says i need to crank out some fresh beats


    EE: Mission critical, no doubt.


    EW: for real she was all like eric the fate of the world rests in your unparalleled skill at fruityloops studio?


    EW: you been listening to that mix i gave you?


    EE: Indeed, I have found a use for it. I relax to the dropping of the beats while I bespangle things.


    EW: wait you actually use that kit?


    EW: you putting those sparkly ass sequins on everything?


    EE: Why would I not, since one of my dear friends gave it to me as a birthday present, utterly devoid of humorous or ironic intent?


    EE: I have become quite proficient these past two months.   Working on an advance present for you.


    EW: oh no


    EE: Remember the jacket you left at my house?


    EW: nonono you stop that i like that jacket


    EE: Just imagine how much more you’ll like it when I’m through with it.


    EW: damn it liz


    EE: No one but Kate is allowed to call me “Liz.”


    EW: how bout lizzy


    EE: Nope.


    EW: beth?


    EE: Negative.


    EW: lizzifer?


    EE: Hell no.


    EW: but elizabeth is such a long ass word to type


    EW: hey how well do you know heidi?


    EE: I have been in regular communication since Kate introduced us.


    EW: well we havent talked much


    EW: whats she like


    EW: shes friends with kate but i get the vibe they are a little different


    EE: Kate watches videos of cute animals on the internet, whereas Heidi likes to watch things getting crushed in a hydraulic press in slow motion.


    EW: thank you very helpful


    EW: i know shes a badass


    EE: Then you will certainly enjoy this. The last time we talked, Heidi told me she was recovering from an injury sustained whilst hunting a wild boar.


    EW: youre shitting me


    EE: She emerged victorious, apparently.


    EW: are you serious


    EE: Perhaps she will allow you to view the scar.


    EW: hot damn i need to step up my game


    EE: Oh? Worried her level of cool may exceed your own?


    EW: dont be all smug over there what if she was coming to see   you?


    EE: Calm down, Eric. She is pretty much a normal girl.


    EE: In fact, she told me she was a tad nervous about meeting you.


    EE: There, does that make you feel better?


    EE: By the way, don’t tell her I told you that.


    EW: what the hells to be nervous meeting me about?


    EE: You should stop trying to form coherent sentences before you hurt yourself.


    EW: thats my secret


    EW: i never bother trying in the first place


    EW: coherence is overrated


    EW: you watch operas you should know this


    EW: but for real has kate warned you about our impending doom


    EE: You are referring to the vaguely alarming phraseology which has recently permeated any conversation with her?


    EW: yeah that


    EE: I am aware of it.


    EW: well


    EW: jims been having nightmares


    EW: you know like not normal ones


    EW: about something about to happen


    EW: maybe something bad


    EE: That is...


    EE: Ominous.


    EW: yeah no shit


    EW: something about everything being on fire and the sky breaking


    EW: i mean its jim so who knows


    EW: but its jim plus kate i don’t like


    EE: Hmm. Jim plus Kate? I like that.


    EW: what


    EW: what no im not talking about that


    EW: can you like not be all up in our romance lives or whatever for five minutes


    EW: making matches like youre freezing to death on the plane of dry newspapers


    EW: anyway i got dibs on kate


    EE: WHATStolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    EW: whoa chill like i know youre all up in my grill or whatever but just get in line okay?


    EW: got ladies for miles


    EW: take a number


    EE: I suppose I had better alert Heidi of the leagues of females clamoring for your attention.


    EE: She may find it alarming.


    EW: yeah they do sometimes


    EW: anyway


    EW: ill let you know how it goes


    EW: just


    EW: dont be saying too much stuff about me


    EW: to heidi i mean


    EW: you know


    EW: except good stuff i guess thats cool


    EW: you still there


    Elizabeth declined to respond. She rolled her eyes. Just let him stew in his nervous insecurity for a while. She wished she could spectate his meeting with Heidi.


    She stared at her phone for a while. What to do? She had homework. She could practice singing. But if something really was about to happen, something bad…Eric was right. Kate and Jim both being nervous about something was ominous indeed. She looked over at Callie, snoozing on the bed. Callie would protect her, right? She always did. Maybe a little too much, sometimes. And…


    She opened her desk drawer and checked to make sure it was still there. Yes, it lay atop an informational brochure for the  Cirque du Soleil— the stained-glass butterfly brooch that Kate had given her. Supposedly able to summon Callie, but only once. She had better start wearing it regularly, even when out gardening. She fastened it to her shirt. Also in the open drawer lay the poetry notebook Kate had begun. Elizabeth had written a bit in it, only what she thought were some of her best ones, and planned to send it back, eventually. She was pretty sure that was the idea—a back-and-forth trade thing.


    Kate’s poetry had been a little bizarre. Of course. There was this haiku, for instance:


    I am dust and breath.


    I am a small, bright nothing;


    A handful of sky.


    Which did sound like Kate. And this one,


    They say they shall sashay, so shall


    The sixth sick sheep’s thick


    Thoughts mops peppers pots


    Zizzerzazzer fox in socks SIR!


    in which her frustration with tongue twisters became manifest in written form. That one made Elizabeth grin, as she imagined Kate trying to speak it and giving up in exasperation. But then there was this lengthy and rather dramatic puzzler:


    There are no words –


    I’ve checked.


    But there are birds


    That wheel and fly


    Across the open, windy sky.


    And there are distant hills


    I’ve never seen,


    And there are snowy plains,


    And fields of green,


    And there are dark rocks standing in the sea.


    And neither have I wings,


    For though I try,


    And leap from the clifftops,


    Never can I fly.


    And there are birds,


    More fleet than me,


    Who trace the stormy skies


    O’er dark and thrashing seas.


    And there are stars above


    And ships on waters still


    And there are men in love


    And men who love to kill.


    And there are more colors in a single grain of sand


    Than all the artists in the world will ever understand.


    And there is music in the spheres –


    Music I will never hear.


    And there are beasts that stalk the night,


    And monsters I will never fight.


    There are pains I will never know,


    And wondrous crystal caves below


    No man has ever seen.


    And there are fields of ice and stone,


    Fit for being all alone,


    Where no man’s ever been.


    I cannot understand my dreams,


    And though I know him well,


    I cannot understand my brother.


    And though I know my inner thoughts,


    I cannot understand myself.


    How could I ever understand another?


    O poet, say what chance have I


    To understand a butterfly?


    As well for me to try to see


    A rainbow


    With a sightless eye.


    There are skies I’ll never know


    And places I will never go


    And beauties I will never see


    And people I will never be.


    But maybe, someday, I will see.


    Elizabeth was certain that Kate had not written this. It had butterflies and rainbows in it, true, but Kate would not write about “men who love to kill,” nor employ phraseology such as, “O poet, say what chance have I.” And of course, she did not have a brother. Most of all, the handwriting was not in Kate’s exuberant style. All of the poetry in the book was unattributed. If Kate had not written this, then who? Surely not Rebecca Carter.


    Just to keep track, Elizabeth had signed all of her own contributions. So far, she had only done a few.


    One track of music on her operatic playlist came to an end. What came next, instead of a continuation of  Der Rosenkav , was the blaring voice of an old-timey radio announcer. “ We interrupt this program to bring you a special message… ”


    Elizabeth swung to a sitting position, vexed that an ad had slipped past her blockers. She froze when it continued in a different voice and style. “ Elizabeth Eddison. Do not be alarmed. ” The words ‘Elizabeth’ and ‘Eddison,’ as well as ‘do not be alarmed’ were all spoken by different voices, with different sound mixing and audio quality.


    She was at her laptop without being aware of having moved. Another video had interrupted her Youtube playlist. It was a compilation of short clips from old black-and-white movies and musicals, few of which she could identify, rapidly cutting between them in order to form a contiguous, coherent message.


    “ Danger is coming. You must be prepared! This is a warning. Keep a lookout for shape and sky. They will help you. Beware October Industries. Keep that cat of yours on hand. Remember to use chime when it all happens. Best of luck! ”


    This video was less than a minute in length and comprised around thirty separate cuts. Some of those words were delivered by Humphrey Bogart, the only actor she recognized. The video was titled “Warning.” It had zero views, and when she refreshed the page, it was no longer available. She scrambled for a nearby pencil and wrote the message from memory on a scrap of paper. The account that had created the video was a nonsense string of numbers and letters, and it too no longer existed when she clicked it.


    She sat at her computer for a while, thinking, the music paused. She circled “shape and sky,” and eventually tried searching this phrase online with little success. She had more luck with October Industries.


    Elizabeth looked at Callie, napping on the bed. She walked over, scooped up the pale lynx, and gave her a big hug in spite of the bleary half-hearted yowl of protest. “Something’s going on,” she said into the thick fur. “You’ll keep me safe, right?”


    Callie vanished from Elizabeth’s grasp and was suddenly in her own padded box across the room. Her tail twitched back and forth, and she began turning in circles, evidently planning to continue her nap.


    “Well,” said Elizabeth. Typically, when she spoke this word, it was followed by a plan of action. To her annoyance, and vague unease, she had no idea what to do next. Maybe she should call AJ.