[October Sky] Part II

Here's PART ONE in case you haven't read it yet.


The house of Mrs. Snow sat on a cul-de-sac on the northern edge of town where the portion of the town wall still stood. The house backed up against the wall as if it were being threatened by the street and looked startled with several large windows. Emmaline knocked on the door with a vaguely numb fist and waited. A man, dressed in the black and white of a servant, opened the door.

“Yes, Miss?”

“I’m looking for Mrs. Snow.”

“You’ll find her at the house of Petunia Evers. Go back up the street, take a right on Greenwich lane and follow it down to Marsha. The house is 26 Marsha Court.” Then he promptly shut the door in her face. Emma blew into her fists and tried not to curse. She should have brought her gloves from home, but had forgotten them in her hurry to be out of the house. Maman would probably scold her for being forgetful, if she knew. Emma shook her head and turned to head back up the street.

26 Marsha Court stood on the corner across from a very similar neighbor. In fact, looking at them, they were twins of one another except one was done in blues, the other in greens. Emma knocked on the door of the blue house. A clatter came from behind the door. It opened to a woman wearing one shoe with a mass of hair corralled in a messy braid. She and Emma caught eyes and Emma bowed.

“I’m here to see Mrs. Snow. I’m with Mr. Amon’s alchemist shop.”

“Oh, yes,” the young woman said. “We’re expecting you. I’m Lucielle.” Lucielle promptly wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed. “It’s awfully cold out here. Let’s get you in the house.”

Bundled inside, Emma began to sweat under the heavy heat. The whole house felt like a sauna. She loosened the buttons on her coat and wore it hanging at her sides. Lucielle went to the staircase in the middle of the house.

“Come on, Mrs. Snow and my mother are upstairs.”

Emma followed her up.

Lucielle went to a door, knocked on it, and then opened it. Stepping just inside the door, she said,

“There’s someone to see you, cousin Snow.”

Emma stopped in the doorway. The three women resembled one another, but only in features. One lay in bed and she wore the frumpiest nightshirt Emma thought she had ever seen. Her face was bright red and she sweated in the heat. Beside her, sitting in a chair, sat a woman Emma thought of as the soul of poise. Every curl in her hair laid down perfectly against her white forehead. She possessed the same mass of hair, but it hung thick down her back. She wore black and silver and a corset.

“Thank you, Lucielle,” Snow said. “Mr. Amon has sent the recipe we asked for?”

“Yes, ma’am. Mixed himself yesterday and then held to increase its efficacy,” Emma said.

“Good. Lucielle, bring me my bag from downstairs so that I can pay this nice young lady.”

Lucielle hesitated, shot her cousin a look, then left the room. From the placement of a chair, apparently Lucielle spent a great deal of time in the room as well sitting on the far side of her mother from her cousin. Emma shifted from foot to foot then held the package out to Mrs. Snow.

“Please take it.”

Four packets wrapped inside of white paper full of a tarry brown substance meant to be mixed with tea or strong drink.

“I will, dear, just as soon as I can pay you for them. That paper will keep me out if I don’t.”

Oh right, that. Emma had forgotten about the charm on the shop’s paper to keep people from using the concoctions without paying for them. Lucielle came back with a bag that matched Mrs. Snow’s dress and plopped it down in her lap. Then she retreated to the far side of the bed and put her hand over the hand of the woman in the bed. Mrs. Snow came out with her payment, a few bills, but as she reached out to pay her a violent shudder ran through Mrs. Evers, the woman in the bed. Both Lucielle and Snow jumped to their feet to stop her from hurting herself as she convulsed.

“What’s happening?”

“I think she’s dying.”

As quickly as the throes started, they ceased, dropping both women to their knees beside the bed. Emma watched as the two got up, one foot at a time. Mrs. Snow shook out her dress and went to press her hand to the woman’s forehead, but Lucielle beat her to it.

“Her fever’s broken,” Lucielle said. “But her heart?” She leaned in to listen to her mother’s heart. Rising her head, she shook it once before beginning to cry. Emma blinked away tears as well, crying more because Lucielle cried. Mrs. Snow remained dry eyed though she now looked at Emma with harder eyes.

“If only you had come sooner,” Snow said.

“What do you mean?”

“The medicine was for her. Mr. Amon will not be getting paid for this.”

The vehemence took Emma aback, but she couldn’t quite blame her. Her relative had just died.

A shudder ran through the body and Lucielle sat back hard. Mrs. Evers hands groped at the air and a strangled cry tried to come from her throat. Emma and Mrs. Snow watched in wonder as the woman tried to sit up, upsetting the coverlet on the bed. Lucielle reacted first, throwing her body across the other woman’s to keep her down.

“What’s happening?” Emma asked.

“I don’t know.”

Lucielle screamed as Mrs. Evers threw her off with stiff movements. Mrs. Snow then attempted to restrain her, to no avail. Emma watched as the woman lurched forward and attempted to get off the bed but her legs wouldn’t quite work so she fell to the floor. On the floor, she crawled, dirtying her nightshirt. The closer she came, the more Emma edged back toward the door. Then her hand touched Emma’s ankle and grabbed with a vise grip.

“Let go!”

Emma batted at that hand and tried to pull her leg away at the same time leading to her ending up on the floor. Mrs. Snow grabbed Mrs. Evers by the shoulders and tried to bodily haul her away, succeeding in partially lifting the woman off the floor. Lucielle joined in with her cousin and they dragged the crawling woman to her feet where she tottered before lunging at them both. Mrs. Snow reached backward seeking something and came up with her bag which she used to hit Mrs. Evers. She tottered to the floor again, stiff legged and clumsy. Emma meanwhile had scooted herself out into the hallway where she watched with wide eyes.

Mrs. Snow hit Mrs. Evers again, bashing the bag down on the woman’s head. Once, then twice. The third time, blood came spurting out. Mrs. Evers skull cracked. Lucielle grabbed Mrs. Snow’s arm and held her back from hitting her a fourth time. The body continued to jerk and try to crawl, but it made no headway. Emma couldn’t unsee the way the woman twitched.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, but I think it’s over.”

Lucielle collapsed over the body of her mother and had a storm of tears complete with thunderous sobs. Mrs. Snow watched. Emma pulled her knees up to her chest and waited for her own shaking to subside.

“I have to make a phone call,” Mrs. Snow said and stepped across Emma to go down the stairs. Picking up the packet forgotten on the floor in her haste, Emma stood up. Lucielle appeared to be going nowhere. Emma wondered if she should comfort the poor woman who shuddered through her tears. Wiping her sweaty brow, Emma started down the stairs only to hear.

“You don’t even care, do you?”

Lucielle’s eyes were weeping agates in Emma’s vision.

“Ma’am?”

“You don’t even care that she died.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“No, you’re not. You just want to be gone. Well go. Be gone. Take off.” She shooed with one hand and wiped her tears with the other. Emma continued down the stairs. “Heartless,” was the last thing she heard Lucielle say as she made it to the lower floor. Mrs. Snow stood in the foyer with the telephone pressed to her ear.

“Yes. I want to report a sighting. What do you mean there are others already reporting things?” she said. Emma slid past her and stopped at the front door. When she turned back, Mrs. Snow waved her away and Emma went back out into the street. The cold slapped her in the face and she quickly buttoned up her jacket. After being so warm returning to the cold was even more miserable. It felt as if her fingers instantly went numb once again. She trudged back to Mr. Amon’s shop with the vision of that woman crawling across the floor toward her and Mrs. Snow savagely bringing the bag down on her head. But the strongest vision was the one of the blood and how it ran in pearls down the woman’s face after Mrs. Snow cracked her skull.


The sky at the edge of the backyard was painfully clear in the cold. Emma looked up at the spread of stars with wonder. No matter how many times she gazed at the sky, she always found herself wondering at what she saw. Beauty incarnate. Maman moved around somewhere behind her, coaching guests on the proper places to look to see certain astral features. They awaited the true star of the evening, a constellation called “The Well”. It would appear in the northern sky for only an hour or so, but while it lay there, it would send forth shooting stars. Or at least, that was what was supposed to happen.

Emma felt uneasy. Her dream of the night before had come back full force as she stood under the stars. She returned to the table and poured herself some more hot chocolate. Midnight would come along soon enough and the well would light up the sky with a beautiful display. The brown liquid steamed in her cobalt mug. Other stargazers talked in pairs and threes about what they saw or would see.

“The Well of Souls,” Emma said to herself after a sip of her hot chocolate. She had never heard the well called that before. It seemed so dramatic. She sipped more of the hot liquid hoping to warm up some. The biting cold of late October seeped into her bones despite her coat though making waiting for midnight a misery.

Turning back to the group, she counted heads. 12 people not including herself milled around in the backyard with cups of hot cocoa or a cookie gripped in their mitts. A couple wore binoculars like she did. A telescope had been set up at the end of the grounds and pointed in the general direction the well would be seen in. Emma checked her phone for the time.

11:55.

Any minute now.

She trained her eyes on the northern heavens and waited. Supposedly, you could see the well with your naked eye when it first appeared in a flash, but she didn’t want to take chances of missing it. Picking up her binoculars she shifted the viewfinder to make the stars bigger and brighter. As she waited, she found herself breathing shallow. It was hardly the first time she had seen it, but it seemed special every year. As if it were true magic.

“It’s time,” someone said. Everyone turned their eyes to the sky.

In a sky full of bright, beautiful stars, nothing unusual showed. Emma held her breath. Any moment now.

Nothing.

Letting out her breath in a slow sigh, Emma tried to catch the eye of her grandmother. The older woman said something in a low voice and the group nearest to her began to move inside. Emma wasn’t with them. She stayed outside, waiting, hoping for the moment that didn’t come. Maman put a hand on her arm once everyone had gone inside.

“Come on.”

“Maman, what happened?”

“I don’t know, dear, but I have a strong feeling this is not good.”


A rhythmic thudding woke Emma from her sleep. The man in the mirror had returned. He beat on the glass from inside the mirror and sought her attention. When she sat up, he said,

“The well. You must help me.”

Emma rolled out of bed and came to the mirror. Placing her hand over his, she said,

“How?”

“Come with me.”

The medallion resting on his chest flickered with a red light then turned white. When it did, Emma’s hand fell through the mirror and landed in his. She snatched her hand back and the surface followed her movement slowly until the silver dripped off her fingers. Emma checked her hand for injuries. There was nothing wrong. Then his hand extended through the mirror.

“Please,” he said. Looking at the hand extended toward her, Emma took a step back.

“What will happen to me?”

“Time is short.”

“Are you certain?”

“The spell sent me here. You must be the one I seek. Help me.”

The medallion’s light began to fade like a sun ray caught in a cloud. With two strides, Emma moved forward and grabbed a hold of the man’s hand. He drew her through a chilly curtain to stand before him. Putting her feet on the floor, Emma was reminded that she wore neither shoes nor socks. She could hear Maman scolding her for letting something so simple pass her by.

“Who are you?” Emma asked.

“I am Cedric and you are the one who will save us all.”


Cedric wrapped his cloak around her as she shivered.

“I’m sorry to drag you from your world,” he said. Emma nodded. “But our need is dire.” Emma waited for him to elaborate, but he stopped, cocking his head to listen. “We must go. Someone may have heard.” He hurried her across the circular room away from the mirror and into a corridor where spheres of soft light glowed the color of cooked butter. Padding along with him, Emma felt her heart begin to thunder. What had she done? Following a stranger into a strange land was madness. Yet she had done it. Now she reaped the consequences. Cedric stopped at a corner and peered around it.

“This way.” His steps were light and hers lighter. They fled together down the hallway. At the base of a tower, they mounted the stairs. Up and up they went until Emma thought they must have been a hundred feet high. Throwing open a door, Cedric bowed her in ahead of him. A carpet greeted her feet as she stepped inside. It had a lush flower pattern. Cedric entered behind her and shut the door. In what could be called a fireplace, crystals sat and emitted light and heat in sienna sparkles. The room was warm enough that Emma could doff the cloak. She threw it over the back of a chair set next to a table. Beyond the table, a window sat shut. The lattice work appeared small and fine. Turning on her toes, Emma took in the man who had brought her. The skull medallion at his throat swung as he stooped to warm his hands near the crystals.

“Where are we and what is going on?”

The room seemed to grow smaller as Cedric stood up. He stood a foot over her height, though now looking at him, he couldn’t be much older. Perhaps college age. Her first impression made him older.

“First, thank you for coming. I have given you no reason to trust me.”

“Then show me why I should trust you now.”

“I will, I promise.” He went to a small cupboard and pulled out a jar and two glasses. “Please, let me offer my hospitality, faint though it is.”

As he went about pouring an amber liquid into the two glasses, Emma took a further look around. Installed well above head height were more of those globes, though these were dark. The walls were covered in more flowers like the carpet. It gave the room the appearance of growing. The sienna crystals in the fireplace were large, hexagonal things. She could see her face reflected in their sides. Beautiful.

“Have a drink.” Cedric offered her a glass then sat down. His own glass sat untouched on the table. Emma held her glass before her but did not drink from it, waiting instead for his explanation of what could be so urgent.

“What is your name?” Cedric asked.

“Emmaline.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful young woman. You are not at all what I expected. I thought I would met with a wizen miser or a crone when I cast the spell upon the winds, but it brought me back to you not once but twice. Therefore, you must be the one.”

“The one for what?”

“To cure the King.”

Emma had a goose walking over her grave shiver and looked at Cedric with wide eyes.

“Cure the king?”

“Yes, he lies upon his death bed and only he can reopen the well.”

“The well of souls.”

“Yes, you know of it?”

“No.” Emma found her way to her own seat on the far side of the table. “We don’t call it the well of souls. We just call it the well and it’s a constellation that appears during the fall.”

“Here, the well of souls is a place. It is the place where all souls cross over. When it is closed, souls cannot come through and our kingdom suffers.”

“What happened to the king?”

“I do not know. His affliction is strange and the court physician seems taken aback by his illness.”

“What can I possibly know that a physician wouldn’t know?” Emma asked. “I’m just an apprentice alchemist.”

“Alchemy? You have studied alchemy?”

Emma hesitated. “Yes.”

“Praise to the stars. You are the one I seek.” Cedric shot up from his seat. “We must take you to see him.” In his excitement, he nearly danced across the room. Then he stopped, so suddenly he had to catch up with his feet. “But Lawrence will seek to stop us.”

“Who’s Lawrence?”

“His revered chancellor. He controls who sees the King now and keeps those reins tight. I don’t think he wants the king to get better.”

“Is that why you were rushing me through the halls?”

“Yes, because he cannot know you are here. It will take subterfuge to bring you two together.” A look of cunning crossed Cedric’s face that Emma didn’t like. Getting up, she began to pace.

Now Cedric watched her as she moved along in front of the crystals and back again.

“I can’t do this, can you send me back?”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I cannot send you back until you have cured the king. Certainly you must understand.”

“No, I can find you someone better. My teacher, Mr. Amon. He’s a true alchemist and can do more than I ever could.”

“But the spell did not bring me to him, it brought me to you.”

“Maybe so that I could bring you to him,” Emma explained.

Cedric shook his head. “You must be the one. The spell cannot be wrong.” He got up and opened a door. Beyond it was a bed. “I offer you my bed for tonight. I will lie before the stones. You need have no worries. This will be an easy thing for you with your knowledge.”

Walking into the room, Emma looked around. Beside the bed was another small pot of stones. She crawled across the comforter and ducked beneath it. Despite her misgivings, the comforter felt warm and inviting after the bare chill on the soles of her feet. She snuggled down and though her nerves were a touch frayed went to sleep in minutes.


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