Breakdown

Was he actually Oliver’s son and not just a pretender? The question gnawed at him. It certainly seemed so. The two were eerily similar, and judging by what was in this room and what he saw Mary do, the two also shared rather unsavory interests.

A bastard then? Born out of wedlock? Evelynn acted to suggest as much. Necessary as this document might be, however, it told him little. What interest would Pence have in his family squabble? Even if he planned to murder John to receive a larger inheritance, as he supposed his plans with Alexandra suggested, that money would belong to him not Pence.

A small realization: did he plan to murder all his siblings?

The fact that it didn’t seem too far-fetched troubled him. This land was worth a lot of money. This house, too, was flourishing with new furniture and exquisite items on display. Oliver probably had a sizable amount of money in the bank. And Mr. Pence suggested some plan involving the woodland surrounding the manor. The two men he murdered declared themselves woodsmen too.

No. Adam shook his head. He hadn't murdered them. He hadn't murdered anyone...but he had hadn't he? No. Better not to think about it

If Pence wanted these two dead, they should have a finished deal with Oliver, or planned one with his children about these forested lands. Were they a lumbering company? But why have Pence instead of them? Would it matter which company harvested the lands?

He thought of Evelynn, lying in bed, catatonic. Was it possible to kill a person in that place of dreams? How would he even get caught, if he could kill people in such unnatural ways?

The ceiling shook slightly. Many feet were treading above.

He returned to the front hall.

§

A stranger in a striped suit was speaking with Sarah. He was tall, thin, old, and nearly bald with only thin white hair growing at the sides of his head. Sarah saw Adam, and the stranger turned around with her to look at him.

The stranger started. He opened his mouth in a sort of daze as if he couldn’t believe what stood before his eyes.

“This is Adam,” Sarah said, “Oliver’s son.”

“I see,” the man said, blinking, bewildered. “Err, sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? Adam, this is Jackson. He is the lawyer in charge of the proceedings. He worked for Oliver, and agreed to take on his inheritance proceedings.”

“I am Adam.” They shook hands. Jackson seemed spooked by him.

“I was just telling Jackson what a troublesome event has happened to Evelynn. He agreed that it would be better to delay the proceedings until she is well.”

Adam was surprised. “That is very considerate of you.”

She harrumphed. “Of course it is. She may not like me, but I never hated her. Although I imagine you do not believe me.”

Adam though for a moment, and realized she was probably right. “You said her children might not be Oliver’s.”

She laughed raucously, as one would expect of an elderly person. “Don’t get your hopes up on that. Evelynn wasn’t that stupid. It was just a mean joke I made because it gets to her.”

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“Isn’t that a little cruel?”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “What is a joke, if not cruel? Goodbye, Mr. Jackson. I’m sorry you had to come up here for nothing.”

“Oh, never mind that. It couldn’t be helped.” He raised his head at the stairs.

Adam heard the commotion and turned around.

Evelynn was being carried on a stretcher by two paramedics. Her children surrounded her. John caught sight of Adam and frowned. The older of his sisters came down to meet Mr. Jackson.

“Mr. Jackson, have you come to talk about the inheritance?”

“Huh? Ah, yes.” Jackson stopped observing Evelynn, and looked at her daughter. “Louis, it’s been a long time.”

“It’s good to see you Mr. Jackson,” she said, smiling and nodding toward her husband, who walked after her. “This is my husband.”

“Oh, you married, what a joyous occasion.”

“I agree,” she said. “This is Thomas Sullivan, my husband. Thomas, Mr. Jackson. He was my father’s attorney.”

“I shall take my leave,” Adam said, taking off.

“Oh, it was my pleasure,” the lawyer said to him, perhaps understanding that he and the rest of the family were likely on bad terms.

Adam returned a moment later.

“Something else, Mr. Adam?” Jackson asked.

“I had forgotten. I have a birth certificate declaring Oliver as my father,” he told the lawyer. “It’s right here.” He showed him the document. “I was wondering if it’ll be important.”

“Oh, Oliver didn’t consult me for this,” he grumbled, taking the document out of Adam’s hands. “Would you like me to hold it for now?”

“Yes, please.”

“What!” Louis screamed, looking at the document. She whipped her head in Adam’s direction with a powerful glare.

“You are a lot like John,” Adam said. “I bid you all farewell.”

Some bitter words were muttered at his back. He paid them no mind.

§

He retreated to the library. There he freely pored over Oliver’s journal as he had over his own the previous day, deciding it was better to be away from the rest of the family for the moment.

The journal was filled with anecdotes about his family and events and places wholly unconnected to one another. It seemed almost fictitious, but why would Oliver write anything like that?

It was only after the fifth page that he realized the journal was written in the same language as the scroll he found in the secret room. Several subjects called to Adam. The dream, the winter sun, the singer, the forest of bats, the unseen rites, the mirrored ones, the fog.

His head hurt. His eyes hurt. He heard a beautiful, tranquil humming, almost like singing…

…there was a room filled with books up to the ceiling, and what a high ceiling it was! It was a round room, and in the center stood a spiral staircase. He ascended the stairs and came upon a telescope pointed to the skies. The stars were beautiful and sad. In the same room was a small desk. Above it were some papers and an inkpot. On the ground lay an old pen. He took the papers, feeling a dreadful exhilaration as he did so, and fled…

…the walls were moldy. The room had an infiltration problem, but it was no matter. He laid the writing over the table and read. He couldn’t contain his smile. He was overcome with joy. As night arrived, he lighted a lamp and continued to read. But he needed to experiment as well…

The door opened.

Adam looked up.

Mary stood at the entrance.

He felt cold sweat flowing down his back as she walked his way. It was childish, but he wanted to avoid talking to her, fearing she had realized his loss of memory.

“You never came back.” She looked around the room, nervously. “What are you doing here?”

“Recalling some old memories, I guess.”

“Must be a lot of work.” She paused and kneaded her temple. She was sweating. “You are…you…” her words faltered, and her head drooped with a deep moan.

She stumbled against the wall.

Adam watched mutely, unable to think, much less move.

She slipped to the floor, limp as a ragdoll.

He was confused at first, and then he was frightened. He jumped from the chair, hurrying to her side. Panicked, he felt her forehead. It was burning in fever.

“You…I…sorry,” she mumbled, weakly in his arms before closing her eyes.

Adam panicked and slapped her face to wake her up.

He took a deep breath and calmed down. He searched for her cellphone to call over an ambulance. His hand was shaking.

“What happened?”

Adam almost jumped back in shock. It was the younger of Evelynn’s daughter, whose name should be Delilah. She looked at Mary and her eyes widened.

“She collapsed,” Adam explained, swallowing a lump down his throat.

Delilah crouched near Mary. “Leave her there. Don’t move her. Have you called an ambulance?”

“I am trying to.” Adam sighed deeply, trying to hold the phone but it seemed made of oil. It slipped from his hands. He felt terrible. “This is my fault,” he said. “She was not feeling well ever since morning. I should have paid more attention.”

He touched her forehead, watching her fluttering eyelids, her rasping breathing. She was in pain.

“What am I gonna do?!”

“Calm down,” Delilah said, touching his arm. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

After calling one, she sat on the floor beside him.

Adam sat there, holding his wife close, feeling as if he was about to lose it. He was scared and had no idea what to do. He felt immensely thankful for Delilah not leaving him alone until the ambulance arrived.