House of Long Shadows

"Oh, what a pity, that bed is gorgeous," Julia said. "I like blue too."

I carried her luggage upstairs and felt a sense of panic, leaving those two alone together. I lost focus and balance when I heard them laughing and nearly tumbled backward. My left foot shot down to the step and anchored me. I continued forward, followed by a second round of laughter from below. I placed the luggage in the blue room where the bed and walls had a nautical theme. The woodworker adorned the bed with coral, mother of pearl, and carvings of aquatic lifeforms. The bed's canopy seafoam hue and sea chest foot finished the theme and touched on the family's history and source for its wealth. It was also a reminder of the rift between the Marsh and Longshadow families. Captain and first mate had gone their separate ways, and to this day, the ire remains between my father and the head of Marsh Shipping. Me, I didn't give a flying fuck about the argument and the feud.

"They are talking and appear to be getting along," Kitten's drone said as it trundled in to share the gossip. "I believe your odds of an amorous liaison between all three of you are highly likely. Good luck, Al."

"If I dawdle too long, they will think I'm afraid," I said, and Kitten nodded.

"Are you nervous?"

"Julia's enthusiasm has me concerned," I admitted. "How much control does my Dad have over her? I am torn between sharing what happened to us and fucking her into oblivion."

"Good luck either way," Kitten said, leaving me to my own devices.

I rejoined the pair in the music room, where Julia stood next to a bust of Paganini, an Italian violinist and composer who just happened to be one of my Dad's favorite musicians. While most of the things he espoused were morally bankrupt, I couldn't fault the man on his music. Paganini's haunting compositions found their way to many of my playlists. There was a good reason he was called the Devil's Musician. As I entered the room, Arya's and Julia's conversation stuttered to silence. I only caught Arya's few words about music and generosity.

"Should I be paranoid?" I asked. The pair looked at each other and ignored my question.

"Julia brought you something," Arya said. "It must be a reunion gift."

"One of the conditions of the divorce was that this reached you," Julia explained. "He is up to something."

"He is always manipulating his surroundings. First the car and now this; what does he want?"

"Car, what car?" Arya asked, her curiosity peeking.

"May I interrupt?" Kitten asked. "There is a new vehicle in the garage. The driver used an acceptable security password; they parked the car while another waited outside and carried them away after the garage door closed. The driver left the car's code on a bench nearby. I will access the vehicle and create a new security protocol with your permission. It possesses both manual and autopilot features for obvious reasons."

"Obvious?" Arya asked while I raced from the music room to the garage.

I wrenched open the door and gaped at the Bugatti—two gifts in one day after years of no activity. Why? Only some kind of external force that Dad couldn't manipulate must be at work for him to relinquish a car valued at seven figures. I asked Kitten to open the trunk to see if he had sent something he didn't want others to discover. The panel popped open, and I walked to the sports car's rear and looked inside. My father had swaddled something in a soft cotton cloth. I picked it up, felt its weight, and guessed that whatever it was must be solid and made from dense material. I unwrapped part of it and spied the octopoid head of the god depicted in weird alien green stone.

"Why the fuck would he give up his most prized possession?" I asked, and Julia appeared as shocked as I was.

"Something serious is going on," Julia confirmed my theory. "That is why he divorced me, so that you would be okay."

"What did you bring for Al?" Arya asked.

"Nothing important, just a violin," Julia remarked.

It took everything I had not to push Julia out of the way and run back to the music room. I carried the statue inside and set it carefully on one of the couch cushions. I approached the violin case and examined it. The exterior was finely crafted but otherwise unremarkable. I thumbed both clasps, slowly lifted the lid, and took in the contents. The top had a pocket and a few pieces of sheet music Dad must have stuffed into it. I extracted and unfolded the papers. Honestly, I expected Paganini to have penned them himself, but they weren't. At the top of each page, in the original German, was the name E. Zahn. The second thing to stand out is that the author wrote the notes by hand. I played the music in my head, and it became quite clear that Zahn was either insane or a genius. If he could play this piece, his talent far outshined my humble gift. It wasn't until later that Zahn's song's other quality presented itself as an earworm that haunted me, and I found myself humming when my mind was otherwise unoccupied.

"You dropped this," Arya said, handing me a smaller paper. "It fell out when you unfolded that sheet music."

I unfolded it, and my knees nearly buckled when I read its contents. "Dad must have bought this from the musician who owned it back at the turn of the millennium. This violin is the Le Brun Stradivarius, and Paganini owned it for a time. This is a certificate of authenticity that lists all of the known owners of this relic. Why give it to me? It is small, and if he had to leave, he could pack it away easily."

"He must have had some reason for handing it over," Julia said. "Plans within plans, or he is dying."

"He can afford the finest therapy Numenor has to offer. Besides, he is a fanatic when it comes to music, especially Stradivari and Paganini. He'd never part with an object that touched those lives so deeply. No, that fucker has something planned, and I don't like it."

"So, I take it this Stradivari made the violin, and Paganini played it," Arya said. "I'm not the music experts you two are. I've heard of a Stradivarius guitar, but beyond that, nothing."

"Guitar? You could be mistaken," I said. "I've never heard that Stradivari fashioned one, but I suppose anything is possible."

"How long have you two been together?" Julia asked as I returned the papers to the case and closed it. I daren't lift the cloth cover over the instrument just yet.

"Not quite two years," Arya said. "Minus the long family vacation I took with my Dad."

"The mysterious two months that she refuses to talk about," I joked. "She came back a new woman in every way."

"How so?" Julia pried.

"Arya had a slight limp from a childhood accident that vanished during her vacation. She used to wear glasses, now she sees further and clearer than I do, has more stamina in the bedroom, and could outthink Sherlock Holmes any day of the week."

"Sounds like a miracle," Julia said. "Perhaps there is a secret spa you visited that put things right for you or a costly treatment from Numenor Medical Branch."

"Not quite, but I can't speak of it," Arya said, and that old defensiveness manifested anytime I brought up her vacation. I dropped it and urged Julia to follow suit. A part of me thought she might have had a fling with Nick Shaw, and he had given her the works regarding genetic treatments. It would explain most of the benefits I had noticed, but why be so tight-lipped if that were the case? The wealthy always bragged about being younger, healthier, and so on; even Julia had a dip in the techno fountain of youth. No, something else was going on, but I cared too much to push the subject. The words of the man in the car resurfaced, and I damn near broke down and asked what she was up to.

"Where did you hear about the guitar?" I asked, changing the subject.

"An uncle of mine, he told me about it," Arya lied, and damn it if I didn't know it was a lie. She had told me that her family consisted of her Dad and her. So, it wasn't an uncle but her father who shared the story, or she had more family that she didn't want me to know about. Why lie about that? Kitten resolved the issue by silently transmitting details about the fabled Stradivarius guitar and its equally mysterious owner, Corwin D'Amber. He had a long and sorted history as a mercenary, artist, musician, and lover. His shocking affairs with nobility and celebrity were legion. The problem is that if it were one guy, he'd be over a hundred and still going. That was unlikely; more likely than not, it was two or three men in that bloodline having the name of Corwin and following the lifestyle the original had started. Was Arya's last name D'Amber? If so, why hide it? So what if your Dad was a philandering mountebank that lived a quasi-heroic lifestyle and fucked his way across the planet. "I know that look, Al. Drop it."

"What do you guys want to do?" I asked, and they laughed. "It doesn't have to be sex." They laughed even harder after that.

"You two can make plans," Arya said. "I only stopped by to pick up my clean costumes. I am working a double tonight. My next shift starts in an hour. Have fun, and I'll make it up to you tomorrow."

"Are you serious?" I asked, and the blistering kiss Arya gave me removed any doubt she was okay with Julia and me hooking up. There was that phrase again, but it felt more like a promise than a possibility. I blinked as she raced up the steps, leaving me confused. "Dad isn't the only one manipulating people. We'll talk later if that is okay with you?"

"I understand, Al. It seems intrigue follows me around wherever I go. Since we are discussing Arya, she's a real doll. I can see why she is popular at her club. Does she like girls?"

"I have no idea," I replied. "It isn't like we shared or swapped until you showed up."

"I don't sense any hesitation on your part," Julia said with a grin. "Before you go, Arya, can I ask if you ever fancy girls?"

Arya tossed her clothes to me, took Julia into her arms, and kissed her with the same passion she had shown me. A twitterpated Julia stood stunned and smiling as Arya began singing the song 'Time is on my Side' as she retrieved her clothes and left for work. Do I warn Arya about the man in the car?

'No, not yet; things are still progressing.'

Once again, my inner voice kept my feet on the ground. I hated waiting. The Bugatti roaring away from the house announced Arya's departure and having the house to ourselves. There was that awkward silence between Julia and me. I didn't know how to approach her and instigate things.

"Al, I need to bring up something," Julia said. If I thought I knew what the following words out of her mouth would be, I was dead wrong. "Now that Arya has left, I need to say something. I've heard the name D'Amber before; I read it in one of your dad's books."

"It isn't what you'd call a common surname," I said. "I guess we need to visit the library, but first, I must get the key."

"Why keep it locked up?"

"You forget some of the books the Longshadows have collected over the centuries. There are universities, if they even suspected, would hound me every day to visit here and read them." I listed some of the less toxic tomes I kept under lock and key. After reclaiming the elegant skeleton key from its current hiding spot, Julia and I went to the library, and I unlocked the French paneled door with all its glass and filigree. "Trust me, it is far sturdier than it looks."

While Julia walked along the shelves and examined the spines, I went directly to the codex listing every book, tome, and encyclopedia in this room.

"I hope it isn't amongst the missing thirteen," I said, and Julia gave me a puzzled look. "My great-grandfather and others collected this library from across the world, except for perhaps a dozen that Granddad and Carcosa added later. When Carcosa was a boy living here, his father told him that the codex contained every book on those shelves, even the fabled missing thirteen. That story did something to Dad, and he set out the codex, cross-referenced each book, and came up with thirteen shy. He spent his entire summer vacation at that task and swears by it. Then years later, he discovered that the thirteen were, in fact, there, if you knew where to look."

"I remember that tale," Julia said and frowned. "The first time he told it was before; he was a different man then. Do you think there is a secret compartment or hidden safe?"

"I don't think so. Somehow, they are on display but hidden in plain sight."

"Any suggestions on where to look for the name D'Amber?"

"The Register Mystique," I suggested. "It is a yellow leather-bound book and was liberated from the Library of Leng. It lists the surnames of the Old Regime's ancient and most gifted families before the Eternal Master formed the Order of Chthon."

"Before who formed the what?" Julia asked as she looked for the Registry. "It's not yellow anymore and has faded to an off-white." She lugged the tall, thick book from the shelf to one of the reading tables. I instructed her on how to use the book, and Julia sat in one of the many high-backed leather chairs, settled the spine of the tome on the table, whispered the name D'Amber, and let go. The book opened onto the page with information about that particular family or bloodline. "It seems like the progenitor of the D'Amber family has fae blood. His name was Oberon, like Oberon and Titania, the king and queen of fairyland. Looks like a swish and a miss, Al."

"Don't rush to judgment," I warned. "None of these books ever tells the complete truth, and those that do can drive you insane."

"You realize what you just said was a paradox," Julia replied. "Oh, fuck, I get it now."

"Anything else in those pages that might help us?"

"A family tree," she said. "Let's see, old Oberon is at the top, along with Titania. There is something below his name, Latin, I think; it says Rex. That means king, so this is the legend."

"Keep reading. Look for Corwin," I urged as I continued to examine the codex. I was alarmed that we found the name so quickly. Fate and worst come from such serendipitous acts and events."

"Found him," Julia announced. "He is one of many of Oberon's children and a handsome bloke. There is an entire page dedicated to each of them. He looks like a blend of Welsh, Norwegian, and Eastern European. I'd do him in a pinch. I can't read the details. The characters are unknown to me."

"Let me see," I said and took a short break. "Proto-Atlantean, that is what Grandpa called them. He might have been bullshitting me. Yes, I met my grandfather once; there was a bad storm, and the power had gone out. I was just a kid. I saw candlelight coming from the first floor. Carcosa had demanded that I stay in my room during nights like that. That one time, I snuck out and ran into my grandfather. He dressed like a medieval monk with the robe's hood pulled up, obscuring his features. Granddad was reading a book in that same unusual font. He taught me how to decode the cipher. The characters represent a sophisticated mathematical code."

"Maybe you can teach me some time," Julia mused. "That's odd; someone removed the image of one of Corwin's daughters, Daria D'Amber."

"Huh, Daria rhymes with Arya," I said.

"It couldn't be her," Julia said. "It has to be a family name."

"I agree. Let's move on if you are up to it."

"Next."

We spent the next two hours hunting and pecking the library for mentions of the terms Corwin, D'Amber, or Daria. What we learned didn't forward our curiosity or answer any questions about that family. We abandoned the search, and I suggested we watch a video or two of Booker, the full-dive celebrity.

"Ooh, that just reminded me of something, may I?"

"Go ahead, but what are you doing?"

"I want to check out something Booker said," Julia said excitedly as she picked up the Register and placed its spine against the tabletop. "Duskwalker."

The three syllables slammed into my head like a black talon round from a .50cal pistol. I crumbled to the ground and lay semiconscious on the hardwood floor. Julia knelt next to me, and her voice seemed to come from a great distance. I recovered, but it was an unpleasant experience.

"Fuck, did anyone get that truck's license plate?" I groaned as Julia helped me sit up. "What happened?"

"I said a word, and you passed out. I won't repeat it, but I suspect it was one that Carcosa implanted at some point. Are you okay?"

"I'm getting better," I said. "Kitten, I need you to bleep out that word if Booker mentions it in one of his videos."

"Gotcha, boss," she replied, and I managed to reach my feet with Julia's help. "I have cued up his latest video."

I sat on the couch, picked up the bust, and slowly unwrapped it. The ancient green soapstone carving had defied time, translation of the cuneiform letters etched into its base, and every dating method currently known to man. The octopoid horror squatted on a squarish block of stone with its toe and hand claws buried in the rock. The god had the qualities of a demon, crocodile, dinosaur, and human. Long-term exposure to the statue was unwelcome as the viewer swore that the base had more than four sides. I swaddled it back into its sacred cloth and returned it to the floor. I'd find a place for it later, perhaps a secure box at a local bank.

Julia made multiple trips to the kitchen and carried beer, ice, snacks, and two glasses. Why hadn't Kitten offered to help? Eh, it didn't matter; we were ready to go, and I felt nearly one hundred percent. Booker had gone from playtester to spokesman to level designer. He still played the completed product, but now he was playtesting the material he created. If that didn't inspire others to follow his path, I don't know what would.

"What are the odds?" Julia said as she flipped through an older news release about Booker.

"What?" I asked, and she explained.

"I wanted to know more about Booker so I didn't feel completely lost. Games have come a long way since the last time I played them. This full dive tech sounds fantastic; I searched for him, and you two share something. You were both in the same hospital at the same time. Booker checked himself into the hospital, but the article doesn't say why, and that's no shock. Celebrities are always doing something they shouldn't and paying the price. Let's see what this full dive tech is all about."

"Initiating connectivity," Kitten purred in our ears. "You are lucky; Booker is streaming live tonight. I suggest the over-the-shoulder point of view."

I had never had the good luck to catch Booker live. This was going to be excellent, and we were thrust into the middle of a fight. Booker was wielding his famed double-bladed lightsaber with a black blade jutting from one end and a nearly invisible blade from the other. So many scarlet lights surrounding us, and Booker moved so damn fast. The loud clash of weapons filled the air as Booker's playlist blared in the background. I tried and failed to track the path of his blade, but when it blocked one of the many Sith trying to end him, I saw the momentary blend of black and red.

"Time to end this," Booker declared and went on the offensive.

I thought he was insane, but this was Booker we were talking about. The air crackled with power, his power, as he hurled his attackers back with a blast of telekinetic force. As they recovered, Booker cut them down. Only three were strong or fast enough to defend themselves and surround him again. Booker laughed as he changed the song to fit his mood; he chose 'Two Steps From Hell -- Never Back Down' to get his groove going. The violins began the first notes, and we saw his foot tapping in time before his body shot forward. Booker's first onslaught was blisteringly fast. Two of his foes moved close to the other, each taking a blade to block. They kept Booker busy while the third got into position and waited for her opening. I could almost feel the rush of adrenalin coursing through Booker. He welcomed the challenge of someone, anyone, beating him in a duel. A heartbeat before the female Sith launched herself at Booker's back, he dropped down and swiped at the feet of the two men. They hopped over his attack, but it lasted long enough for the woman's horizontal slash to miss. When Booker stood, he had all three of them where he wanted them, in the range of his lightsaber.