Machia Veil Timeline
Evening, September 8th – Bellatorn Estate, Denewood, Surridge
Nate was back in Bellatorn keeping a low profile. He surveyed the security gates for weaknesses.
“A party?” he whispered. There was a stringent invitation check at the entrance.
A press junket took photographs of arriving guests dressed up to the hilt.
“They will have doubled the security detail,” he said to himself. Luckily, the extraction would be a matter of taking mum up to Aunt Matea’s attic. Getting in was the tricky bit.
Yes, he could use the codes. But he feared a misstep would cause his mother’s injury or even death. The mere thought of putting his mother in danger and being shunned by his alternate family again made him hyperventilate. The consequences of failure were too high. There was no “space” for failure. None.
Then there was his lack of costume. It was September 8th. His father’s birthday. He forgot the day he was in. Giant gas fire torches lit the Bellatorn entrance and private planes and helicopters were landing on their private airstrip.
He tried hard to steady his racing heart.
What a strange situation. A party crasher in his own home. Working out how to get in. It was absurd, but he had to do it.
He ventured twenty yards from the tree he was hiding behind. It was dark all around him. He then practiced the freeze code to warm up.
He was not moving his arms correctly. Concentrate! Closing his eyes with laser-like focus, he opened his arms wide. He held the information gathering and then the Oran Sacramenta of Fealty. But how was he supposed to walk and hold the freeze? Darn! He had to try both.
Again. Ethriel would say.
Focus on the sky. Slight dervish to the right. Egyptian pose and full whirling skill, and now the time has stopped. The energy rose within him. He stayed focused, and then it happened. The gate froze.
He practiced the run between the short freeze and the unfreezing in the darkness.
Best to count how long the freeze and unfreeze lasted. He tried the RayCrest code again. One Mississippi, two Mississippi. Hold 3 Mississippi. Unfreeze four Mississippi, five Mississippi, and that was it. Five second windows.
How to hide from each checkpoint? As soon as the first freeze hit, he had to rush in and leave within the five second window. That meant running in for two seconds and running out for two seconds. Hairy. But that’s all he had.
He was ready to cross.
Focus on the sky. Slight dervish to the right. Egyptian pose and full whirling skill, and now the time has stopped.
He ran through the first gate, counting one Mississippi, two Mississippi; making every second count. He hid on the long-pebbled walk to the next check in. The air smelled of gas from the torches. There were signs that dotted the hedges reminding visitors not to take photos. Other guests walked past him in their 1920s costumes. He pretended to be waiting for someone. Their eyes lingered on him for a moment before they continued toward the manor with an air of expectation.
The next checkpoint was far ahead. He wished he had taken the time to notice this when his parents did events in the past.
Okay. Focus on the sky. Slight dervish to the right. Egyptian pose and full whirling skill, and now the time has stopped.
It didn’t work. He was too jittery. An alarm went off in the next checkpoint and Nate froze as guards walked towards him.
Now or never!
Focus on the sky. Slight dervish to the right. Egyptian pose and full whirling skill, and now the time has stopped.
It worked!
He ran past the guards, through the second checkpoint in time to hide behind a tree. Here he stopped to observe the VIP checkpoint. It was a hundred yards from the last check. Only two security guards there. The music had grown louder, its pulsating beats mingling with the exuberant shouts of the guests.
Alberta Moon, his mother’s Personal Assistant crossed the VIP gate with another guest. She was wearing a geisha inspired black and white dress.
“Almost there,” she said, heading to the checks Nate had just crossed. He waited for them to pass, but she stopped to admire the costumes.
“My favourite part of the parties is admiring the best costumes. And the nails! Some nails are fabuloso!” she said, as a woman wearing a black ballgown upside down with a short miniskirt and giant high heels and black nails strolled past them. “Inspirational!” said Alberta.
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Nate breathed again when she passed him.
It was useless to speak to her. No one recognised him. He did not exist in Machia Veil.
Next. The VIP section. But first, make sure Mum is there.
The party was awash with exorbitant 1920s costumes. It was like Club 7 except they froze in the Bellatorn courtyard instead of the Court Room. There were podium dancers in front of old film footage; a DJ; a magician, and servers wearing metal mesh black and white ball gown skirts holding drinks over tight white skirts. Most had 1920s hairdos, and a woman wore giant “sprinkles” that wowed everyone. Nate walked across the party, laughter and music filling his ears, as he searched for his mother.
He held his breath. But still no sign of her. He peered back, amazed at the various gates he had crossed.
***
Nate spotted one of the Gueye sisters in the VIP section as she took a seat. Intrigued, he hid under a tent. Each table had a miniature flying balloon holding a film crew that pretend filmed the guests. There were disposable old fashion cameras on the table. The Gueye’s posed for a photograph when Laine arrived and hugged them. This struck Nate. They claimed not to know the Kinshots! Yet, here they were, rubbing shoulders with his alternate cousin! Laine moved to another table with a younger crowd.
“Oh my! Is that your Persefalle?” said one of them.
“Yes!” she smiled as they admired the elaborate film crew figurines sown on to her skirt. They opened the Champagne when Uncle Gare stopped by to greet and poke some jokes at the youngsters. It paralysed Nate, wanting to talk to him and Laine, but his heart sank, knowing they would only lock him up.
He pressed on, searching for his mother.
Just then, a magician wearing giant black roses on his cape visited the group. The guests wowed and gurgled with joy. Guests queued to have their futures read. Behind them, more old film footage being played.
Nate’s lack of costume was calling attention. He aimed for the manor across the crowd. Reaching one of the ground-floor windows. To his relief, the window opened, except a guest was exiting the manor. He pretended to read his phone, but he had a lucky strike. Her elaborate costume made of countless streams of film stock was stuck in the decoration. She hyperventilated, waving for valets to assist her. This distracted the security guards.
Returning to Uncle Gare’s window, he stumbled inside. Now he had to climb the stairs to the next floor. His heart was pounding. Busy and stressed valets and footmen populated the service stairs. He needed an alternative access point. His only option was to climb the narrow side wall. He stumbled back outside. Hiding behind a hedge, he checked the security detail in that section before climbing the side wall.
The ivy and warped structure helped him climb. He stretched, reaching the side window, and slipped into one of the guest rooms. He then searched for the door. Voices in the corridor made him wait a few minutes before venturing out. He made his way to his parent’s side. The floors creaked, causing him to hold his breath. He reached his bedroom and closed the door behind him. He shut the curtains. At last! Switching the lights on, he checked his walk-in closet. Donning a mask, he paired it with a suit from an unknown designer. Not quite the theme, but it would help him blend in. Nate switched off the lights in his room and then opened the curtains. In Machia Veil, fights breaking out were a regular sight. But there were also happy guests that laughed and whooped. Others splashed champagne on each other, especially the younger crowd. Those were the days!
The lights surrounding the house and courtyard dimmed. The stage lit up, blinding guests who covered their eyes.
Nate’s eyes widened as he spotted his glorious mother, elegantly poised on the side of the stage. Milon next to her.
A hostess came on wearing a giant black and white film roll in tulle that wrapped around her in a cloud like shape. The crowd silenced.
“Cosmic cupcakes! What an evening, huh?” she said as the crowd cheered. “Today is a special evening, for one special sir,” she said, pointing at a giant photo of his father wearing a birthday hat to more cheers from the crowd.
An orchestra played a drum roll.
“Who better than Ava herself to say some words to dear Emyn?”
Everyone cheered, and the orchestra played a thunderous melody that lowered when Aria stepped on the stage. It struck Nate how thin she was wearing a pearly white dress. An understatement for Machia Veil standards. Placing her champagne on the podium stand, she bowed and smirked. Everyone laughed.
“Everyone knows what a wonderful man my husband is,” she said.
Nate’s eyes watered, wishing to run and hug his mother and never to let go.
He was ready to rescue them both to Quotidian. Although thoughts of Kenya made Pinner Lines appear all around him. He stayed calm.
She spoke of his father’s work, and how he inspired people. Then she paused. Everyone held on to her every word.
“We met twenty-three years ago. I was a famous teen who had trouble trusting anyone new, and he was a handsome, wonderful, extroverted young man from a close-knit family that I love and with a charming smile that took my breath away.”
Many guests raised their glasses.
Nate left his alternate bedroom and headed to Aunt Matea’s east wing. He wore his mask. Just as he crossed the passageway, he found Alekee watching through the window.
“Alekee!” said Nate, happy to be hiding behind the mask.
Alekee said hello in sign language.
“Why aren’t you at the party?” asked Nate.
Alekee used his sign language, but Nate could not understand other than when he pointed out the window.
How to get to the attic unseen?
He waved at Alekee, pretending to go down the spiral stairs in the east wing. He halted as soon as his cousin’s attention shifted. Then, retracing his steps, he headed to the attic. The floors creaked even though the music was loud outside. His heart was close to jumping out of his throat. Nate climbed the stairs and there it was. The dimensional border was unlike anything he had ever seen before. He dipped his hand. Then he climbed a few more steps and broke through the thin liquid film. Now, he was half in Quotidian and half in Machia Veil. The dogs were barking, and the Pinner Lines were sparse in Quotidian. He sighed with relief, how he longed to be back.
Coming back down the steps, the changes in Aunt Matea’s home struck him. The east wing in Quotidian had an art gallery with high ceilings she inherited from his grandmother, the late Baroness of Moireach. Besides grandmother’s beautiful oil canvases, she had stylish photographs of green cocktail and evening gowns. Instead, the Machian version was a grotesque deformity with flamboyant clothes and designs that clashed with the frightened expressions of their ancestors’ portraits.
He exited the manor heading towards the stage, while his mother continued her speech. He crossed a few tables with a younger crowd, slamming tequila shots.
“I hope everyone is having fun!” said Aria. A big yes came from the crowd. “Haha, I wanted to cheer my husband of twenty years. My best friend of twenty-three years! Who would have thought my love!” she said, as she raised her glass.