The Rings of Hesaurun Read online

  “I am the house manager,” said April. “Call me if you need anything—anytime. Just press #, then 1 on the phone to reach me. You can call up food from the kitchen 24/7 by dialing # 2. Dial # 3 for housekeeping. I can answer any questions you may have in the morning, so if you don’t need anything more, I will say good night.”

  “Okay. Good night, April, thank you,” Valerie called as April closed the door behind her.

  Valerie strolled the room surveying and touching every surface with her fingertips to get a feel for the materials. It felt good. Next to the queen-size bed sat a desk, floor lamp, and an easy chair that looked like a comfortable place to study or read. So comfortable was it that Orson immediately hopped onto the cushion and snuggled in for a nap. The room had a warm feeling, like a new home, she decided. The house was beautiful, everyone she had met so far was friendly, and she felt safe. What a relief! she thought. If nothing else, Corell had been successful about one thing: she was now far more security-conscious than she had ever been.

  Valerie readied herself for bed reflecting on the day’s events. Although it had begun like most any other, it had ended with startling changes to her life. It seemed as if destiny had run her down from behind, tackled her, then carried her in a direction she could never have anticipated. It was all out of her control—and that’s what bothered her most. It was as if she had no voice in any of it.

  In a day, I left everything behind. Family, friends, school— my home! How did I ever let that happen? The rabbit hole! It’s deeper than I ever could have imagined and just keeps getting deeper. What’s next, the Mad Hatter’s tea party? The Queen of Hearts and the Jabberwock?

  Suddenly it hit her.Teachers! Uh-oh. What are they going to think when I don’t show up for class on Monday? I hadn’t thought of that. I should have told Darcy to tell them— something. Would they buy the cover story? Maybe it doesn’t matter because my school days are probably over anyway.

  At least I have Orson, Valerie thought. Good old Orson, the Cheshire Cat. Or is he? Lately, it seems like he’s more down the rabbit hole with Correll than he is with me.

  Valerie lifted Orson from the chair and put him on the bed, then got in. As Orson rubbed up against her, Valerie laid her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, the day’s events paraded past in her mind. The things Corell told her of his long life, his father, and the rings amazed her. But what he told her about herself was an earth-shaking revelation. Much of it would require time for her to reconcile. Sleep took her quickly as she yearned for her friends, family, and home in Arlington.

  ________________________ Lace curtains glowed with the morning’s light. Valerie had slept past eight until a barking dog startled her awake. She went to the window to see what the commotion was about and was surprised to find Corell Paris playing fetch with a huge, long-haired dog. From her vantage point on the second-floor window, she watched him throw a tennis ball. The big dog chased it, barking excitedly all the way there, then returned with it. When he dropped it at Corell’s feet, he was raring to have another go at it.

  Corell took a knee, ruffling the big dog’s thick fur, its thick ears flopping from side-to-side all the while. He hurled the ball again, which immediately sent the dog chasing after it, barking wildly as if the game was something entirely new.

  Valerie saw the tiny figure of an armed guard strolling the perimeter fence in the distance, which reminded her of why she was there and the ever-present need for security. She guessed the guard must be half of a mile distant. Since the clearing appeared to be square, she estimated the clearing to encompass at least one square mile. The guard shack at the end of the road was also visible from her window, its blue metal roof gleaming in the bright morning light. A second guard and dog patrolled the perimeter on the opposite side of the property. The grounds around the house were fairly level. Rolling hills forested with a combination of Pine, Oak, and Madrona trees were visible, transitioning into high-peaked mountains beyond.

  Even with guards everywhere, the scene from the bedroom window was intoxicating. The warm morning air bright and clean, a few wispy clouds were visible on the eastern horizon. Some of the trees’ size were striking, many of which were immense, towering old-growth Pines and Cedars. She had seen old-growth trees before, but only in national parks while on vacation with her family.

  By the time Valerie had showered and was ready for the day, it was after 9 AM, so she had low expectations about having company at breakfast. Concerned that Orson might become disoriented by the new location and run off, she left him sleeping on the bed and closed the bedroom door behind her. When she entered the kitchen area, she was surprised to find the dining room well-occupied so late in the morning.

  The pleasant sounds and smells of food cooking in the kitchen greeted her from the top of the stairs. The house was an open floor plan with high ceilings, airy, bright, and welcoming, the feel of being in a mountain lodge or resort hotel. The dining area was intended to be the focal point. Her first impression was that it was the kind of room that seemed to invite one to sit and stay awhile.

  Valerie’s eyes were then drawn to the twelve-place dining table surrounded by four stuffed leather chairs, a pair of matching couches complemented by an assortment of tables and lamps. A floor-to-ceiling bookcase filled with a mixture of books, knick-knacks, and decorations separated the dining room from a lounge. Bright morning light entering through large wood-framed windows warmed the room.

  People sat together in groups of three and four, talking among themselves, sipping from coffee mugs or eating at the big table. As Valerie entered she recognized April, who was moving through the room with a coffee pot.

  The large black dog she had seen with Corell jumped off the couch to greet her. As she embraced the friendly animal Corell stood and welcomed her with a hug. The unexpected hug made Valerie blush.

  “Everyone,” announced Corell to the group, “meet my granddaughter Valerie. She’s going to be staying with us.”

  Valerie couldn’t help but notice he hadn’t added “for a while,” which she found intriguing. She took that to mean the term of her stay was open-ended; she could stay as long as she wanted.

  Corell continued. “Valerie is visiting from Arlington, which is up north of Seattle.” Several people stood briefly, while others simply smiled and waved a welcome to her. Corell walked her to one of the leather couches then sat beside her. The dog joined them on the couch, taking up more space than both humans combined.

  “I see you’ve met Comet.” “He’s huge!” Valerie said affectionately. “What breed is he?”

  “He’s a Newfie, a Newfoundland.”

  “Comet, that’s cute! Why Comet, though?” she

  asked, petting the big dog.

  “You’ll find out soon enough—he is all about food.

  You won’t want to leave your plate unattended. He’ll

  have it in a flash! That’s how he got the name Comet.

  When he was a pup, he would clean a plate as if it had

  been scrubbed with cleanser. Thus— Comet.”

  Valerie laughed warmly at the origin of the name,

  petting the affable dog softly. Comet responded by rolling onto his back, exposing a triangle of white fur on his

  chest.

  “He loves to have his chest rubbed,” Corell offered. “I can see that,” she said, smiling brightly as she

  continued rubbing his soft black fur.

  “I am so impressed with your home, Corell. It seems

  so welcoming!” Valerie gushed, then asked, “Are the

  people here your friends, family, or employees?” “Friends and employees. But you are the only family I have here,” Corell admitted. “We have two dining

  rooms here on the farm, and food is available 24/7. The

  kitchens are always open because our employees work

  so many different shifts. We call this a farm because we

  produce a good share of the food we eat.

  “The farm a
lso legitimizes us locally. We don’t want

  people thinking we are a commune or religious cult,” he

  elaborated.

  “How large is it—the farm I mean?”

  “5760 acres, or nine square miles. But only about 600

  acres are farmed. The rest is a natural buffer zone.” “I love it here; it’s so beautiful. From my bedroom

  window, I could see the old-growth forest! How long

  have you been here?”

  Corell looked around the room, considering his answer before speaking. “Perhaps another time,” he whispered, then added, “privately.”

  Valerie nodded, worried that she was asking too

  many questions. Everything’s such a big secret. And I’m

  supposed to act as if it’s alright and not freak out after being

  told there’s another Valerie Dunne somewhere in the future!

  An awkward silence passed between them for a moment. A waitress interrupted it by asking them if they

  would like to order something to eat. Corell ordered

  oatmeal and wheat toast. Not wanting to seem over-familiar, Valerie ordered the same.

  “I don’t mind answering your questions,” he said,

  noticing her unease. “I’m sure you have plenty more.

  Ask away,” he offered.

  “Okay,” Valerie nodded. She did have more questions, one in particular that had been nagging at her

  since she arrived. Valerie leaned in close to him and

  whispered, “I’ve seen a lot of armed guards. Why so

  many?”

  “Good question,” he commended her. “Security is

  important here. Remember what I told you last night.”

  Then his eyes moved to his ring hand. Corell lowered

  his voice. “Only you and I know about the round thing

  here. Never mention it to anyone—ever.”

  “I understand. I wouldn’t. Do that, I mean,” Valerie

  stammered nervously.

  “Sorry, I had to say it,” he whispered. Valerie nodded. Then he went on.

  “I have important friends and acquaintances.

  Business people, politicians, even a president or two. I’ve been around for a while, so I’ve accumulated wealth, and with it comes influence. No one with wealth or power questions the need for security these days.

  When we’re done here, I will show you around.” After breakfast, Corell gave Valerie a tour of the

  house, introducing her to the staff, friends, and employees, confirming that the place was as much of a hotel as

  it was a home.

  “All told, the home and farm employ over sixty people,” Corell explained. “Housing for employees is located on the property, outside the main compound. My

  office is located in an outbuilding immediately behind

  the house. But since it is Saturday, the business office is

  closed for the weekend. Now would be a good time to

  have a confidential discussion if you would like.” Valerie nodded agreement, then followed Corell

  through French doors onto a sundeck, through a garden

  with a gazebo, and on to the office building, approximately fifty yards beyond the house. Corell entered

  a code on a glass panel that unlocked the door then

  switched on the lights. Valerie followed dutifully to the

  back of the building and into his private office. “This is my personal study,” Corell gestured as he

  wound his way through a maze of various items, books,

  and boxes stacked on the floor. He seated himself in a

  high-backed red leather chair next to a window. Valerie

  assumed the big chair was a favorite reading place with

  books overflowing the table and onto the floor. Awestruck and open-jawed, Valerie turned in a

  complete circle taking it all in. This place is more of a museum than an office, she thought. If ever I doubted Corell’s

  authenticity, this disproves it!

  Look at all the books! Artifacts, curiosities, paintings—

  everywhere! There aren’t six square inches of empty wall

  space and barely enough room to walk. And look at these old

  weapons, knives, swords, and guns—some pretty cool statues

  and busts, too.

  And yet, Valerie felt right at home in this cluttered

  environment. She craved knowledge, loved history,

  and respected wisdom, all of which surrounded her.

  Suddenly she was compelled to be Corell’s student, eager to learn.

  Valerie recalled Corell’s words from last night when

  he’d said, “Old people know stuff.” Now that she had

  seen this study and saw first-hand what Corell Paris considered important, those words carried far more weight.

  Valerie smiled, marveling at the understatement. ________________________

  Corell watched the girl with a combination of amusement and appreciation as her eyes darted about the room excitedly, inspecting items of interest one-by-one. He was pleased when she lingered over the Gutenberg Bible, his prized possession. For one so young, her intelligence and adaptability impressed him. He considered these traits key to her success in the challenging business that lay ahead.

  The girl has metal, Corell thought. Still, he wondered if she could become the woman she had been forty-five hundred years earlier when she turned the Hesauronic rings over to their ancestors.She has a lot of growing to do before she can be ready to face her enemies. But that responsibility falls on my shoulders. Only I can help her prepare for what lies ahead. If she is to win her battles, she must understand what is at stake and be made ready for the fight of her life. But I am thrilled at the opportunity.

  ”Eamon Dunne,” Corell whispered to himself, you are finally looking at what you have waited so long for—Valerie Dunne, the original Ring Bearer, has reappeared as promised! What a sight for these old eyes. She is so beautiful, and doesn’t know it! I just wish my father could be here to see her, too.

  She is just getting started—but this means I am finished. What have I got left—a year, maybe two at the most? I have sacrificed a lot in thirteen hundred years, but seeing her here and now makes it all worthwhile.

  Corell marveled at the girl as she wandered around his study, doe-eyed, mesmerized by his collection of antiques and old books. Soon, very soon, this girl must be able to do the impossible; complete the time loop she set in motion thousands of years earlier when she reset her timeline.

  The clock is ticking. It is time for her to merge with her future self, which I hope will happen when she is reunited with the Hesaurun Ring. But nothing is certain, he thought. What if I am wrong? What if they were all wrong? What if what we all expected never happened?

  Those doubts had troubled him for as long as he could remember. Corell remembered his father voicing similar doubts and anxieties. Such misgivings were nothing new to him either. Even so, he wondered if he would witness the transformation of Valerie Dunne, the teenage girl, into Valerie Dunne, master of the Five Rings of Hesaurun. What could he expect to see? Would she be transformed in some way? Or would it be something indiscernible? Only time would tell.

  Chapter 7

  Egan Seamus Stone. November 1938.

  Stone expected to be a busy man for the foreseeable future. He needed to tail Evers, keep an eye on Mayor Langley, as well as the mayor’s girlfriend, the mystery woman. He also had to figure out who’d

  written the extortion letter—but he was already fairly certain who was behind that. Transportation was going to be a problem. Taxis, his usual mode of transportation, wasn’t going to do for this job. Stone would need a car if he hoped to keep up with all of them.

  He checked his watch, which read 11:41 AM, leaving plenty of time to deposit Evers’ check and get enough dough to buy a used car. Stone liked watches, liked carrying a thick bankroll in his pocket, and telling p
eople he only dealt in cash. It just felt right saying it.

  Acab dropped him off at a used car dealer on Stewart Street with five-hundred dollars in hand. The black 1934 V8 Ford sedan in the front row caught his eye. It was perfect for what he had in mind, new enough to be reliable yet unremarkable, easily forgettable in traffic.

  Three-hundred and forty dollars bought the car. After gassing it up, he returned to the Vista Hotel to stock the vehicle with surveillance supplies and equipment. Business always came first, so he stowed his loaded 1911 Colt Government .45, a box of cartridges, and a Ka-bar knife in the glovebox. Then he tossed a pair of black leather gloves and binoculars on the passenger seat. A wool blanket and pillow went on the back seat if the need arose to stake out in the car overnight. His toolbox outfitted with a lock pick set, rope, piano wire, and pliers went in the trunk. One never knew when those items would come in handy.

  Since he knew little about the mayor or even what he looked like, he would need to learn fast, so Stone drove to the public library. Public records and the phonebook provided him with everything he needed to know, including photographs and the mayor’s home address.

  Stone tore the pages he needed out of books and newspapers and shoved them in his pockets. Now he had everything he needed to go to work that afternoon.

  ________________________ Chad Evers, Deputy Mayor, left his City Hall office that evening walking along Second Avenue toward his Pioneer Square apartment, a solitary figure among the busy streets at rush hour. The sky was already black, a drizzle dampening the sidewalks and pavement. Reflections from the surrounding buildings and streetlights glimmered where the rain had puddled. The sound of motor traffic mixed with the sweet smell of Chinese food filled the air as he approached his apartment in the Otterman Building.

  Parked directly across the street sat a black Ford sedan with its V8 motor idling quietly. The large man dressed entirely in black was perched behind the steering wheel, watching the faces of passersby and chain-smoking Lucky Strike cigarettes.