 CHAPTER 9 (section 2) copyright © 2001, S. Y. Affolee Now that her partner was safely wrapped up in bandages and gauze, she realized that the surroundings did not indicate the typical old ladies home. The living room was a collection couches and throw rugs designed in the middle eastern style. The paintings that hung on the walls were an eclectic mix of renaissance prints and new age abstract art in soothing greens and blues. A quiet watery pond sat in the corner bubbling away among gray pebbles as the water was recycled. The entrance to the kitchen was curtained off by a spray of wooden beads that varied from white, light brown, to ebony black. The kitchen itself looked conventional with the stove, microwave, and refrigerator across from a sink and cupboards, but the rest of the room was hung tiny little brass bells and festive red ribbons like some gypsy fair. On the center of the table lay a golden brown cake in the shape of a giant horseshoe on top of a cooling rack. Adrian’s grandmother was busy rummaging her cupboards for dishes and cups. “Mrs. Landeau...” “Call me Julienne. Mrs. Landeau sounds so old fashioned.” Simone glanced at Adrian but he didn’t seem perturbed that his grandmother was giving out her first name to strangers she just met at her front door. “We were just stopping by,” said Adrian. “Stopping by?” His grandmother shook her head. “Sit down, the both of you. I am sure both of you need a break, hm? How’s Gavin?” “I think he’s working on a case.” “Gavin works too much.” She cut the cake and gave them each slices and poured the coffee before she sat down herself. She smiled. “Have you met Gavin, Simone?” She nodded. “He’s very nice.” Adrian scowled into his cup, wincing as he moved his arm at a slightly oblique angle. “Gavin doesn’t have an attention span.” “Now, now.” His grandmother took a meditative sip. “I assume you got stabbed because of a case?” “We’re not sure,” said Adrian. “Of course it’s because of the case,” Simone contradicted. “What else could explain the odd things that have been happening lately?” “You call getting attacked in your own home odd?” he shot back. “Oh my,” said his grandmother, shocked. “So what did you do?” “Well, Adrian was around at the time, so he attacked the attacker, so to speak,” Simone said, a mischivious glint lighting up her eyes. “You take too many risks.” Adrian gave a lopsided shrug at his grandmother’s accusation. “I couldn’t leave her at the mercy of some criminal or any other potential criminals.” “I should hope not.” “But that brings up an important question,” Simone said. “Why on earth did the Greenville butler break into my apartment as compared to a random thief?” “Perhaps he is connected to this whole case,” Adrian replied. “After all, his former employer was Greenville who had been studying this cult for years. Despite being banned from his study, the butler could have at any time his employer was away could have snuck into the study to look for whatever Greenville was researching.” “But that still doesn’t explain why he came to my apartment.” “Perhaps the butler is attached to the research. Maybe Greenville has a rival that he did not tell us about. Perhaps he was afraid that we might have found some information that might have put the other behind.” “Could be.” She tapped a finger against her cup. “Then we’ll have to question him on any former employers. Or current employers for that matter. He doesn’t have to be solely employed to Greenville. Greenville could have been foolish enough in not checking his background.” “I could help you with a reading,” Adrian’s grandmother spoke up. “I find that such things clear up a murky matter fairly well.” Adrian groaned. “No thanks, grandmere. We’ve had a tarot reading recently and it didn’t look like we had a very good chance at figuring all this out quickly. In fact, chances looked bleak.” “Don’t tell me you subscribe to Johnson’s cousin’s nonsense,” sighed Simone. “Who said anything about a tarot reading?” said his grandmother. “But you’ve always done readings.” “Ah, you two wait right here and you’ll see what I have this time. I have been studying up on this method for a couple of months now and have done several readings. Perhaps this could shed light on a different angle?” When she left, Adrian grumbled, “Perhaps she got a new deck and wants to break them in so to speak.” When his grandmother came back, she held in her hands a polished wooden box that was a flat thin rectangular prism, uncarved and unmarked except for small brass hinges. She placed it on the table and opened it, revealing a dark blue silk interior. She lifted up the folds of the cloth and took out a bundle of thin wooden sticks, resembling the children’s toy of pick up sticks, that were tied together with a dark blue ribbon. She untied it, letting the sticks lay in an inert pile on the table. “Yarrow sticks,” she explained. “A form of stoichiomancy. Divining with sticks. One of the basic forms for divining the I Ching.” “I’ve read a little about it,” Simone gave a small grin. “My brother dabbled in some I Ching before really focusing on particle physics.” She chuckled. “A good profession. Particle physics is actually a lot like divination, but it is more scientifically accepted.” Simone raised an eyebrow, but did not decide to comment on the particularly odd remark. “This will take only a couple of minutes.” She shifted the yarrow sticks in a seemingly haphazard pattern, subtracting sticks here, adding sticks there. In the end, she retrieved a piece of paper and a pencil from a drawer and drew a hexagram consisting of a series of six broken and unbroken lines. “The top three is the first trigram,” she said, pointing the the top three broken lines. “This is called K’un or Earth because of the three broken lines. It is receptive. Attributes that can be brought to it is docility and receptivity. It also represents the ox, the abdomen, the mother, and the direction southwest. The bottom three is the second trigram. It is called the flame. It is clinging. See the broken line flanked by two unbroken ones? Unsurprisingly, its attribute is brightness. It also represents the pheasant, the eye, the second daughter, and the direction south.” “Together, this makes one of the sixty-four hexagrams in the I Ching. This one is called Ming I, or Darkening of the Light.” She stared at the hexagram for a moment, lost in thought. “This is a very ominous sign, I’m afraid.” “Literally, this sign means the wounding of the light.” She glanced up at Adrian, her eyes flickering to his bandages. “Sounds like this one has already come true.” “Tell us something that we don’t know,” Adrian remarked. “Don’t be such an obtuse boy,” his grandmother retorted. “Let’s see here.” Her fingers traced the lines. “All these lines, especially the broken ones contantly refer to wounding. Perhaps there will be much blood spilt. Much violence. I don’t like this at all. There will be adversity, many unfavorable events. But on a more favorable note, you must keep up a perseverence, a will, to face upcoming difficulties. Veil yourselves so that the opposing forces can not see you.” “Sounds rather metaphysical to me,” said Simone. “No, this is applied to the physical world. Trust me. The image that this hexagram portrays is one of darkness. Some darkness, some authority figure in this whole scheme will rise up soon. But if you think fast and act on the opportune moment, you may overcome it. But don’t try to seize it in a direct way. That will only backfire. However, there will be a rescue from this darkness. It’s a possibility, especially if you realize what is happening around you. I suggest at that moment, you leave the imminent scene of disaster before the storm breaks.” |