NINETY-FOUR: He’s gone

Jude was gone.

            Simon was considered missing in action and presumed among the dead at the HaleSpa. There was a terrorist attack by the underlings of the City. Simon would be honored as a hero. Ricci could spin anything.

            Arous had just finished Siobhan’s cremation ceremony two days ago.  Her ashes were planted in a new potted rose in the garden at Rose House

            Ricci kept asking the question. Smiling. Being so proud of Arous.

“Arous, is the Diofe really your Source? After all, you are my daughter. I can be your Prince Charming for a Thousand Years.”

She was in the City building where all the City business was done. She was on the way to the archives.  Ricci had encouraged her to go there.

“Go ahead.  I like to go down there when I need a quiet moment to think. Or to read about myself,” he laughed at himself.  “But you, go, read about Lady Grey, your mother.”

She stepped on to the elevator.

“Down, please.”

The elevator began to sing.

“I know what you’d like to hear and it’s perfect for the moment . . . ‘swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home, swing lo sweet chariot, coming for to take me home’ . . . here we are: the basement archives. You are authorized to get off on this floor. Have a nice day and happy hunting.”

Arous walked out of the elevator and through the grey door. It slammed behind her. The stairs were dark, the whole massive room, dark. At the bottom of the stairs she could see something bobbing and emanating light.

“A stool.”

She reached the bottom of the stairs and the stool moved on ahead of her. A fog like dry ice covered the floor. Lights began to come up to her right and left. She could see rows and rows of massive grey shelves. The other light came from the bobbing and weaving stool. Cold.

“Where would you like to start?” asked the stool.

“Rose’s House and Ephor Ricci.”

She didn’t care about her mother, anymore.  She was dead.  What she wanted to know was what Ricci had to do with Rose House, really.  What did Ricci and Ephor Sextus have to do with Queztecoatyl.

“Information about Ephor Ricci is classified.”

“I’m Ephor Ricci’s guest. I’m his daughter.”

“Does not compute. Searching for Rose’s House. Beginning with the most recent entries.”

The stool disappeared around a corner; Arous followed. She walked through the dense gray fog.  A looming object appeared at a distance. Rows of gray metal shelves towered before her, the same color as the fog. She continued her relaxed pace. She stopped and turned to look behind her.  She couldn’t see either end of the shelves.  They seemed to disappear into the fog. No walls. Grey floors. A dim light seemed to glow around the immense shelves. She walked and walked.  Rows and rows, stacks and stacks of boxes and files lined up along the wall and down each row.  It became more and more cluttered the further she walked.  The ceiling began to drop yet still no sign of the end wall.

“Well, this is absolutely futile.”  Arous called out again.

“Mr. Stool?  I can’t find you.”

She began to walk faster and faster.  She started to run. She noticed a pink dot up ahead.  She slowed her pace. She began to walk toward what she thought was the exit resuming her steady pace. As she passed a corner, out of her periphery she caught movement and turned around.

“Stool?  Is that you?”

No answer, not even her own echo.

From behind her she heard a rustling. Arous spun around. It was the stool.

“Rose’s House beginning one decade ago. I will wait for the next search.”

She began to pull boxes and files from the shelves. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye.  She whipped her head around to the far end of the aisle. 

Did someone just round that corner?

She started pouring through more files and boxes. She talked to the files, “Mother, where is it? What is it I need to know?”

She wasn’t quite in the right place and she knew it. She looked up and began reading the labels just above her reach. As she walked in front of one shelf it lit up, glowed.

Something moved again.  She swung to face the movement. The stool was gone.

“Stool, is that you?”  Silence. “Well come here and help me.” 

Another movement caught her attention.  Arous turned.  Nothing.

Another movement.  This time above her.  She looked up.  Pitch black. She could make out a ceiling.  Greasy oily pitch. 

Footsteps.  Arous looked up.  Nothing but silence and black.

Footsteps again.  Closer this time.  Movement again to her left.  She spun around.  It was the Ephor.