The Daykeeper's Grimoire Read online

  “Easy, tiger, I’m a little fragile today,” he says.

  I look up at him; he’s looking kind of scrappy. “What’s up, Dad? You sick?”

  He rubs his face with both hands and then runs them through his rumpled hair. “Thomas took me out to the pubs last night,” he says with a gravelly voice. “I think everyone in the village bought me a draft …”

  “Come on,” I say, grabbing his hand. “You just need a big plate of runny eggs and a broiled tomato!”

  Dad looks like he might barf and says, “I think I’ll stick with dry toast and coffee.”

  I don’t let go of Dad’s hand the whole way down, but he’s too groggy to think it’s weird.

  When we get to the kitchen, I peer in to make sure that Barend Schlacter isn’t in there. Mrs. Findlay shakes her head when Dad walks in.

  “Thomas told me you had quite a time last night,” she says with a smile.

  “Pretty rowdy bunch, for old men …”

  “’Tis the scotch and ale that keeps them young!”

  I glance over at Dad. “Looks like it put twenty years on you, though.”

  “Hot chocolate, Caity?” Mrs. Findlay asks.

  “Yes, please. Hey, Dad, did you get that email from Uncle Li? He’s coming today.”

  Dad drops his face into his hands, and then he looks back up at me. “I’m so embarrassed about this, but there is just no way I can go get him in the state I’m in. I was thinking, perhaps you could be the best daughter in the world and go with Thomas to pick him up?”

  “Sure, no problem,” I say. “I wanted him to check the feng shui of my bedroom anyway.”

  This will be good, I think to myself. Being with Thomas and Uncle Li will keep me safe from that psychopath Barend Schlacter in case he only pretends to leave Breidablik.

  A look of relief washes over Dad’s face and he gives me a big hug. “You’re the best, Caity,” he says as he kisses the top of my head.

  “And you’re the stinkiest, Dad.”

  “Aye,” adds Mrs. Findlay, plugging her nose. “I noticed the pub stench, too.”

  “That’s my cue to have a bath and a long nap,” Dad says, grabbing coffee and toast to go.

  I walk over to the empty cubby. “Where’s Mr. P?” I ask.

  “Thomas put him in the library, the kitchen is being inspected this—”

  The door opens and Barend Schlacter walks in. My whole body tenses and I have to concentrate in order to breathe.

  “Guten morgen, ladies,” he says with a smile. One of his front teeth is dead and has been capped so it’s a different color than the rest of his teeth. He’s so vile.

  He walks over to me, squeezes my shoulder gently, and says, “Sleep well?”

  I’m frozen and can’t say a word. Mrs. Findlay, still working for the five-star rating, starts lavishing him with compliments and asks what he wants for breakfast; she says she’ll cook him anything his heart desires. He takes full advantage of her sucking up and asks for blintzes.

  I listen to this like they are speaking underwater, or like they are aliens that I’m examining. I am completely detached, watching from afar.

  Who is this guy, anyway?

  While they yammer on, an idea springs to mind. I walk over to the desk in the corner of the kitchen and pretend to grab a pen while sneaking a piece of tape from the industrial-sized tape dispenser. Fortunately Barend Schlacter’s back is to me, and Mrs. Findlay is concentrating on making blintz batter. I reach up to the intercom panel and tape down the talk button for the guest wing. When I see that it’s secure, I leave with a quick goodbye. Barend Schlacter turns and winks at me and I have to breathe deeply to keep my hot chocolate from coming back up.

  I figure this is my one and only chance to get more information on this guy, so after I pick up Mr. Papers from the library, I suck up my nerve and walk to the guest wing to Barend Schlacter’s room. I honestly don’t know where I’m getting the courage to do this.

  Turning up the intercom in the hallway outside his room, I listen to them in the kitchen arguing playfully about the best blintz fillings. I figure as soon as I hear him leave I’ll still have a few minutes to scramble away.

  When I open his door, Mr. Papers runs right in and perches on the window sill. There’s not much to see, just a small overnight bag with his clothes in it. No briefcase, no laptop, no pad or pen, nothing. Then I peek into his bathroom and see gold; his cell phone is in there charging.

  Sweating and shaking, I open his phone to look at his contacts. There isn’t one single person or phone number listed! So I look at the last number dialed. Strangely, it has a San Francisco area code. I jot it down on my hand with the pen I took from the kitchen, then look at his call log and see that the last ten calls received are all from this same San Francisco number.

  I put the phone exactly as it was and go back into the room. Mr. Papers has jumped up to the top of the tall armoire in the corner and he’s trying to lift something heavy up there with all his might. Pulling the chair over from the desk, I get up to see what he’s doing. Just over the crown moulding on top of the armoire lays a metal laptop case. I reach over to try to open it, but of course, it’s locked. The only identification on it is a luggage tag that says “B.V.S. 415-555-1224.” I jot the number on my hand next to the other, return the chair to the desk, and leave as quickly as I can.

  When I’m back in the hall, I listen in on the intercom and hear Thomas telling Barend Schlacter that they have to leave for the ferry in about fifteen minutes. I know I’m safe because I can still hear them chatting away in the kitchen, but I can’t help but run to get out of the guest wing and back to my room where I bolt the door. I won’t feel safe here until he is off the island.

  After giving Mr. Papers some origami sheets to busy himself, I do a reverse lookup on the phone numbers that are written on my hand. The number on the laptop case tag is not available, which means it must be his cell phone.

  I try the other number and it comes up as unlisted, but available for $13.99 through some shady track-you-down company. My parents have set me up with a PayPal account that I can use for small purchases, so I immediately pay; it seems like a small price for some key information.

  A few moments later, the name pops up: F.R.O., Inc., 600 Montgomery Street, San Francisco, California. MapQuest shows the address as the Transamerica Pyramid building. These people are in my old backyard!

  When I try to Google the company name, nothing comes up. Nothing. It seems almost impossible for a company to have not one single mention. Weird. I need Justine’s help on this.

  From: [email protected]

  To: [email protected]

  Subject: Spy job?

  Oh my god Justine, you would not believe the CRAZY that is going down here!!!! I’m trying to piece a bunch of stuff together but I need a little help … I can’t stress enough how important it is that you not mention any of what I’m talking about to your parents, cuz if it gets back to my parents I am in so much trouble you don’t even know. Seriously, the whole Tenzo thing seems like playground games compared to what’s been happening lately.

  This FREAK is here, posing as a hotel inspector and while my parents were out he came to my room and threatened me. We’re talking like adult-level scare tactics. I’m fine tho, and he’ll be gone for good in a few minutes, but I need to find out what his real story is. I searched his room and got the only phone number that he calls and that calls him, then I did a reverse lookup and it turns out it’s a company at the Transamerican Pyramid building! Can you believe it? It’s called F.R.O., Inc. and of course there is not one single mention of it on the web. Type in dung beetle and you get like a half a million pages but there’s not one mention of a company that works right there in the tallest building in San Francisco! Anyway, here’s my big favor—can you go over there and pretend you’re a bike messenger delivering a package? You’ll be totally safe in public. Look in the lobby at the company directory and find another company that’s on t
he same floor as FRO, then go up and take a peek. Just check if there’s anything to see, if they have like a tagline under their company name about what they do or anything. I know that this is a lot to ask, but I really need your help. THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU!!!!!!!!!!!!

  I hear noises outside so I walk to my window just in time to see Thomas loading Barend Schlacter up to take him to the ferry. I stand in the window and watch the car drive away, not moving until it’s out of sight.

  The combination of the unusually warm sunlight streaming in and the relief of knowing that man is gone loosens me up. I look over at the loch, twinkling in the sun like a blue plate with diamonds on it, and feel a great urge to go swimming. I pull on my bathing suit and a hat, put a towel and my sketchbook in a bag, and grab Mr. Papers.

  The loch is too big to swim across, but not so big that you’d think a monster could live in it. It’s actually very nice. There’s even a little sandy area where Mr. Papers and I sit and listen to waves lap the shore.

  When I get warm enough from lying in the sun, I start wading in. Mr. Papers comes to the edge of the water and makes little screeching sounds. Guess he’s not much of a swimmer. When the water hits my thighs I dive in; it’s so cold that it takes my breath away. I do a few dolphin dives and then stand on my hands underwater and try some synchronized swim moves that I saw in the Olympics. I am always amazed at how much makeup those women can wear underwater and wonder if there’s a whole line of cosmetics just for synchronized swimmers.

  I hear a voice say my name in the distance. I look toward where it’s coming from by the castle, and I see Alex.

  Great! The last time he saw me I had mushrooms in my teeth and now I’m completely wet in my bikini. I shake the water from my hair, but see by my shadow that this has made it go full fro so I go back underwater to wet it. Alex is nearing the shore when I resurface.

  Running for my towel, I wrap up in it before he gets too close.

  “On holiday, I see,” he says as he walks over.

  “Just going for a swim.”

  “Surprising, that,” he says as he skips a stone on the water.

  “What? You didn’t think I could swim?”

  “Just didn’t think you’d enjoy the cold water so much, being such a big city girl and all.”

  He never comes right out and says it, but I can tell he thinks I’m spoiled.

  “Well, it’s not like the San Francisco Bay is heated and I swim there,” I say, even though I have never even stuck one toe in those shark-infested waters.

  He doesn’t answer, just nods and goes on skipping stones. I see he is wearing fishing waders so I ask if he caught anything.

  “Aye. Some nice wild brown trout. You ever fish?” he asks as he flips his hair back from his eye. I’m already over being irritated.

  “Not really. My dad’s not too handy outdoors.” I wonder what to do next; there’s no way I’m taking this towel off while he’s still here. Then I remember the cornerstone that he told me about and ask him if he has a minute to show me where it is. He agrees, so I pack up.

  As we walk up the path, I think about talking to him about his dad. From what Barend Schlacter said, it seems like F.R.O. may have been involved with his death. I decide it’s too touchy a subject; I’ll wait for the right time, maybe when I have more information.

  We approach the tower and Alex points to the far corner. “I think it’s this one here.” He feels through the ivy with his fingers, and then takes a pocketknife and starts slicing through some of the vines. A carving about the size of a file folder begins to show through. It says:

  Fergus Mac Fireland

  Xu Bao Cheng

  12 . 8 . 17 . 7 . 6

  1760 A.D.

  “Cool! What’s that string of numbers above the date?”

  “Dunno. It’s always flummoxed me.”

  I run my fingers over the carved name of my super-great grandfather and feel some kind of shock, a zing. I jump back.

  “You okay?” Alex asks.

  “Weird, I just got some kind of … shock,” I say.

  Alex points to my feet. “Those flip-flops can generate a lot of static.”

  “That was probably it,” I say, though I know it wasn’t.

  “Well, I best head back to the farm,” he says as he jumps on his bike. “Bye, then.”

  As soon as I see that he left through the gate, I go back to the names and write them down in my sketchbook. Then I pull at the ivy to hide the carving again; I don’t know what Dr. Tenzo is looking for, but I’m certainly not going to make it easy for him to find anything.

  After changing to pick up Uncle Li, I run into Thomas at the front door.

  “I’ll go get Uncle Li with you, Thomas,” I say. “Dad’s staying here.”

  “Your father not well?” he asks with a smile.

  “You people are evil,” I say. Thomas gives me a wicked smile.

  “So what did you think about that inspector?” I ask on the way to the ferry.

  “He’s a wee sour man, isn’t he?” he replies. “I didn’t like him a’tall. Was happy to send him off.”

  “Me too,” I say as I gaze out the window wondering what on earth would make me interesting to a Bavarian man and the secret society he might work for.

  We arrive at the dock as the ferry is pulling in. I see Uncle Li waving his hand and yelling, “Caity! Caity!” like a kid who hasn’t seen his mom in a long time. He’s dressed in his usual uniform, a dark blue silk shirt—the Chinese kind that buttons up to the neck—black pants, and soft loafers. He’s the only person I know who’s old enough to have a lot of wrinkles but no gray hair; his hair is still a glistening blue-black. Seeing him puts me so at ease that I feel it all though my body, like a long soak in a hot tub.

  The ferry docks and he hops off. I run over and give him a big hug. I can feel it already; he will make everything better. “I have so much to tell you, Uncle Li,” I whisper.

  As soon as we drive through the castle gates, Uncle Li has his hand on the door handle like he can’t wait to get out. Thomas parks and takes his luggage, but I keep him for the tour.

  We start in the formal garden. Not wanting to influence what he thinks, I don’t give anything away before he checks out the property. As we walk around he says things like mmm hmmm, and uh huh, and at one point he puts out his hands in front of him, palms down, and starts walking like a sleepwalker in the movies as he checks for underground water currents.

  Uncle Li stops at the tower and silently looks it up and down. He walks around to the back where the waterspout is, takes a sip, and nods his head. Then he looks at me for a few seconds. I look right back at him, still not giving him any information, even in my gaze. He walks around to the front of the tower, and then goes in the little door; he’s so short he doesn’t even have to duck. As we walk up the stairs he keeps one palm on the wall, dragging it along the whole way up. I scan each rock, hoping to find something with the Flower of Life symbol on it. When we get to the top, we stand and look at the loch and the forest and all the huge boulders. Finally he says, “This castle is not what it seems.”

  Staring straight ahead, I ask, “In what way?”

  “You must be honest with me and I will be honest with you.”

  I turn to look at him. “But what’s your first impression?”

  “This castle is hiding something. Very unusual energy field here, along with odd subterranean water patterns. Also a sense of ancestry. A very strange combination of forces.”

  “You can just sense that?”

  “You could too, it’s not that hard. Become a receptor; information is available to all.”

  “What do you think it’s hiding, Uncle Li?”

  He shakes his head and says, “Something very powerful. Can’t put my finger on it yet.”

  “I hope you can help me figure it out. This is getting …” I want to say dangerous but then I think it may freak him out so I say, “complicated.”

  “Most the time complicated can mean i
nteresting. Let’s go sit down and you can tell me all about it.”

  Uncle Li looks tired when we get back to the castle. I ask if he’d like to rest. “I’m not as young as I once was,” he says forcing a smile. “Travel exhausts me.”

  “Let’s just talk later then. I’ll walk you to your room.” For the first time I notice that Uncle Li is getting older. When you see someone almost every day the little changes become incremental, but since I hadn’t seen him for awhile, I notice that he is aging. Could I really burden him with what’s going on?

  Once Uncle Li is in his room, I run up to check my email. I haven’t really had a chance since I sent Justine that email this morning. She’s written back.

  From: [email protected]

  To: [email protected]

  Subject: RE: Spy job?

  OK, Caity, if weird men are coming to your room to threaten you I think it may be time to tell your parents or call the police. I mean, I’m totally happy to dress up like a messenger and check out that company, but you have got to get somebody to protect you. I’ll let you know what I find out at FRO.

  PLEASE promise me you will be careful. Isn’t Uncle Li coming soon? Maybe he could help you figure out this big mystery if you really can’t tell you parents. J

  I know she’s right, but I also have to trust my gut about when is the right time to tell Uncle Li everything. Now that Barend Schlacter is off the island I feel a little better, although I know I need to stay on guard—who knows what he will tell the Fraternitas about me?

  I still smell like sunscreen and loch water from my swim earlier today, so I pour lavender bubble bath in my big tub and fill it as high as I can. This is the longest bathtub I’ve ever seen; I am able to stretch out completely, which I do as I soak for a long time.

  Uncle Li must have been tired because he doesn’t come out again until morning. I find him at the kitchen table having breakfast and catching up with Dad.

  Sitting down to have some oatmeal with them, Dad fills him in on the guests who are coming. When we’re done with breakfast, Uncle Li suggests that I finish my tour of the inside of the castle.