Nephew of the Forgotten One: Chapter 10

Nephew of the Forgotten One: Chapter 10 Nephew of the Forgotten One: Chapter 10

Tracy
"Paula?" BJ asked. "You're leaving?"
"Like you said before, finding Paul isn't a priority for you. But it is for me. My parents can deal with the preschool as it is; it is summer, after all."
"Goodbye," I said, watching Paula walk into the Polestar Preschool.
Maybe we should change our minds, I thought. Perhaps we should look for Paul.
I opened my mouth to suggest this.
"No, Tracy," Picky said, shooting down my proposal without even listening to it. "Giogas is a greater threat to us now; Paul is going to be a secondary objective."
"Is that really right?" I pressed. "I mean... this is a kid we're talking about. Our age," I added for good measure.
"If you think about it, Tracy," BJ said rather dejectedly, "talking about Giogas means we're talking about the lives of every one in the world."
"You, too, BJ?" I asked, barely holding back my tears. "And I thought you would have some sympathy for Paula's situation. I mean, after all, you--"
"You're right," he said quickly, interrupting me. "I should be more understanding of what's happening... but Picky's right. Giogas is the bigger threat, and we should deal with the bigger threats first."
"Then maybe you don't need me." I turned my back to them and began to walk into the preschool, too.
Picky stopped me, turned me around, and looked me in the eye.
"We need you. Or don't you remember? I'm very sure that we need everyone who's absorbed an Energy Point's energy to enable the absorption of another. And you were the first one. Without you..."
"You're just trying to make me feel like I have to be there with you," I accused. "You don't really need me. And before you refer me to sealing Haschie again, I stood above the Fire Crystal-shard because I wanted to be sure it would work. Goodbye, BJ, Ņrutas, Pickford."
I was angry. That was the only reason I referred to Picky by his full name. He tried to make me think Giogas was more important than Paul.
I walked into the Preschool while BJ mocked Picky. "Pickford?" he laughed.

"Tracy?" Paula asked. "What are you doing here? I thought you and Picky..."
"That's over," I said. "I want to help you look for Paul."
"You do? But what about Giog--"
"He's not important to me now. Your brother is missing; you're looking for him. Helping you is the wisest thing I could do."
"Oh," she said. "Anyway, Ness just called. There's some lead he wants to check out."
"What kind of lead?" I asked.
"There's some new sort of club in Fourside. It's called the Euphronic Tarocchi Society; he and Lomond found its site on the Internet. They truly believe tarot cards can divine the future."
"And they think they may have kidnapped Paul?"
"Yes. In fact, they said they'd be right over."
A vacuum sound outside alerted me to the fact my brother and Lomond had arrived.
They opened the door, walked through the school, walked through the den, walked upstairs to Paula's room.
"Tracy?" Ness asked, surprised to see me here. "What are you doing here?"
"She's helping us look for Paul," Paula replied.
"What about Picky, BJ and Ņrutas?" he then inquired.
"They went off to look for the next energy, I guess," I said.
"Oh, OK," Lomond observed. "Should we be going, Ness?"
"It's fine with me."
We walked outside and teleported to Fourside.

"What's the address to this Euphronic Tarocchi Society?" I asked my brother.
"The building was rented to the ETS last year; it's located on the same city block as the Enrich Flavor Building."
We wandered around Fourside a time until we found the ETS' building. The signage identifying it as the home of the Euphronic Tarocchi Society was rather sparse and nondescript; all it said was Euphronic Tarocchi Society -- Furthering Lives through the Cards.
"Rather presumptuous of them, isn't it?" Paula wondered.
We walked in. Paula, Ness and Lomond all walked down a side hallway.
The Society's interior was a stark difference from outside. But it wasn't as dark as you'd expect: the lighting was used, though they'd installed a dimmer. And they'd used the dimmer: it would be about forty-percent, maybe; the capped candles on the walls lit up the hallway somewhat.
Not that far in front of me, a woman with a rather common hair style was behind a desk; and she was shuffling a pack of tarot cards.
"Good day," she said. She didn't sound evil. "Would you like me to predict your future with the tarocchi?"
"No, thank you," I said, intending to walk down another hallway; but she reached over the desk and gripped my left arm.
She repeated: "Would you like me to predict your future with the tarocchi?"
I guess she took my silence as an affirmation, because she held out a deck of cards.
"Shuffle, please." I did; I'm not good at shuffling, but I guess it did the trick.
"Now cut the pack in three and give it back to me." I did as I was told.
Placing the three cut piles between us, she took the top card on each pile and arranged them in a row; then she melded the remaining cards, shuffled them, and placed the top card from that pile above the middle card. That card was nearer to her, though.
"What are you doing now?" I asked.
"Sssh!" she urged. "The tarocchi's power cannot be rushed."
She turned over the left card. Both a jester and the words il dupo were on the card.
"Ah, The Fool!" the card-reader exclaimed. "Beginnings; spontaneous faith; no, apparent folly. There's something you're doing that others are calling foolish, is there not?"
"Yes," I said curtly, not wishing to say more.
"Do not worry; though folly it may now seem, soon this card will prove your 'folly' only appeared to be so."
She then turned over the middle card. A devil stared up at me; il diable was written on the card.
"The Devil," she said, translating the card's name again. But this time, as before, I suppose I didn't need the translation; the card's art was rather descriptive.
"Is it bad?" I asked, worried.
"No, the devil merely belies mischief and darkness in tarocchi; however, you must beware it nonetheless."
She then turned over the right card. A magician was drawn on this card, leading me to believe that il magus translated as The Magician.
"Ah, The Magician!" she said, confirming my suspicions. "There will be a strange power... at least one -- there could be two -- you will eventually encounter. These powers can be both good, not to mention bad; and I do not know which you will encounter."
I stood in silence.
"This final card is not like the three before," the woman explained. "As your Guide Card, this tarocchi card will protect you as best it can."
She turned it over. gli innamorati was written on the card, and I guessed the card had something to do with being enamored.
"The Lovers," the woman confirmed. "This card belies, as one would not assume, innocence, joy, exhilaration and trust. Rely on those, and you will get through this strife."
"So, how much do I owe you?" I asked.
"Nothing at all, but if--"
I didn't pay any attention to the rest of what she was saying. A new arrival in the building drew my attention. As he walked by me, he looked like...
But was he?
"Thank you," I said, being careful to watch the guy as he walked down the hallway and into a room.
"Oh, you're looking at Dusty, aren't you?" the woman asked me.
"N, no!" I stammered.
"Sure you're not," she said, gathering the tarot cards up. "Don't tell him I said you could visit him. He's kind of weird; he doesn't want candles lit in his room. He just wants an artificially-lit room to practice the tarocchi. And no visitors, too. The Euphronic Tarocchi Society wishes to expose as many as possible to the wonders of tarocchi divination, but he stays off to himself. Hopefully he can sway you to believe in the powers of the tarocchi; otherwise, we may be forced to revoke his full membership and give his room to one who wishes to expose the powers of tarocchi cards."
She seems kind of maniacal, I observed. But is that just a personal view, or a view of the entire Society?
"Go, go," the woman urged. "Talk to Dusty, and let him seem to convince you of the powers of the tarocchi. I wish him to remain as a full member of the Euphronic Tarocchi Society."
How could I have resisted? I have the urge to help anyone I want. It's just part of my character.
"Dusty?" I asked, knocking on the door to his room. "Are you there?"
The door opened. Was it because of my weight pushing on it?
Dusty turned around.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "I thought Thalia fixed the locks."

BJ
"BJ," 'Roots asked, "don't you Threed live?"
"Yeah," I admitted. "I live in Threed."
"It's almost like you never like to talk about your home," Picky observed. "Why is that?"
My heart skipped a beat.
"BJ?" 'Roots inquired.
"What?" I snapped.
"Are you OK?" Picky asked me. "You seemed kind of out of it just then."
I nodded.
"Why don't we visit your father? I'm sure he'd be glad to see you," he continued.
"Um... well," I said, hesitating, "my dad's out on a business call right now..."
"Then let's just visit your house. We'll be able to rest there for free, right?"
I couldn't hesitate further; after all, if I did, they'd know something was up. And I don't want that.
"Yes," I snapped quickly.
I led the way to my house. As I unlocked the door, Picky looked around oddly.
"BJ?" he asked. "This is your house?"
"Well, technically, it's my dad's house; but it is where I live. Why do you ask?"
Picky smiled.
"I somehow doubt your father is 'away on a business trip,'" he said, "when you consider that I woke up in this very house mere hours ago."
It felt like time stood still.
"What?" I demanded, not willing to believe it, but at the same time realising he'd seen through that lie.
"You heard me. You lied when you said your father wasn't at home: you haven't been to Threed since I met you there, but I have."
I tried to defend myself, saying, "He said a few days ago that he was leaving today on a trip."
Picky looked at me.
"Do you really expect me to believe that?" he asked, glaring.
OK. It wasn't worth the fight, so I folded.
"No," I conceded. "And you're right: my dad's at home; he's not on a business trip. In fact, I don't know why he would go out on a business trip: he's a work-at-home Threed marketing strategist."
Then, to myself, I added:
And he would have preferred I go into a more mathematics-inclined atmosphere, I muttered in my thoughts, but he was pretty accepting when I told him I wanted to major in the social sciences. At least he knew I had a future in track...
"BJ? OK?" Ņrutas asked.
"I'm OK," I finally managed, and opened the door. "Let's go in."
"BJ!" my dad cried. "You're home."
He looked at Picky.
"I remember you. From earlier today, right?"
Picky nodded.
"Dad?" I said, half-questioning, half introducing. "This is my friend Picky Minch, from Onett. It's a nickname, like mine; and like me, he doesn't like his full name."
Dad seemed taken aback.
"O... Onett?" he stammered.
"Yes, I'm from Onett. What's so surprising?"
"Do you know what's happened to my ex-wife?"
"Dad?" I asked; I wasn't willing to believe that.
I couldn't believe it. It was impossible.
"Your ex-wife?" Picky asked.
"She's a teacher. Or at least she was training to be one when she left us," I said poisonously.
"There have been no teachers named Nichols at Onett Elementary since my brother started going there."
"I guess she took her maiden name back after the divorce," my dad guessed.
"And what would that be?" Picky asked. I would have asked it too, but Picky beat me. For now, I don't know all that about my mom; and what I do know has been faded by time.
"Ringo."
"Ri, Ringo?" Picky stammered. "She was my teacher last year."
"Do you know what happened to her?" my father pressed.
"She disappeared after school ended."
"Oh. Well, then, I guess I should be a better host." My father prepared some food for us.

After my father's meal was finished, Picky, Ņrutas and I went out to look for the next Energy Point. If there was one in Threed.
"The Power Crystal won't work for now," Picky mused, "if I'm holding it, considering I've already absorbed an Energy Point."
"I have a theory!" Ņrutas blurted in one of his rare spurts of coherency.
"What?" Picky asked.
"The Crystal starts to react when the holder is near their Point; if the holder is nowhere near it, it won't work. Boing!"
"And he was doing so well..." I muttered.
"I think there's some sort of lag there," Picky added. "Berloneot isn't that far from Onett; therefore, Tracy should have eventually picked up the Energy there from Onett proper. She shouldn't have had to travel to Berloneot to pick up it."
Picky suddenly went into an odd haze. His body seemed to stop moving. I took the Crystal from him before it could drop.
"Perhaps the detection becomes more powerful as more Points are absorbed," I hypothesised.
"If that's true, BJ," Picky guessed, suddenly out of the stupor, "and if the nearest Energy Point is yours, the Crystal should start reacting right... about... now."
It started reacting.
"How did you figure that out?" I demanded.
Picky shook his head, as if he were just waking up.
"I don't know," he admitted. "It all kind of faded out; it seemed like I lost all my motor skills."
"You did," Ņrutas said merrily.
"Then I felt the idea enter my mind..."
I snickered. It was unbelievable.
I looked at the Power Crystal.
It was pulsing black now. And the pulse seemed to emanate away from me. It emanated slowly.
I followed it, the adrenaline building up inside me. I felt like I was getting ready for a 1600m dash.
As I followed the direction of the pulse, it became more intense. As it intensified, the Crystal began to shake. I had trouble holding onto it, thanks to my adrenaline-induced oversweating.
As we arrived at the circus tent, I remembered something.
Something from my history class.

BJ's memories
I try to stay awake. But I'm too tired.
I'm still not used to getting up at 5 a.m. to practice for the track team.
The teachers know this, and they go along with it; but the history teacher, Mr. Desfleurs never does.
"Mr. Nichols!" he always booms. "Your other teachers may let you sleep, but I won't," he always says. And the other kids always laugh at him, mocking him; but once he threatens detentions, they stop.
I wish Mom was still here. But she left us a month ago. The divorce went through.
The other teachers know I'm going through a hard time, and like track, they understand I may get detached from my work. And just like he acts towards track, Mr. Desfleurs acts harder towards me.
He came to Threed Junior High a week after Mom left. And in his class, I feel like I'm walking through molasses.
"Mr. Nichols!" my best friend, Thomas Howe, mocked quietly. "Your other teachers may let you sleep, and I will too."
Thomas is a joker: he's got a future in comedy. But for me, it's either track or the social sciences.
"Continuing on my lecture from yesterday," Mr. Desfleurs said, seemingly ignoring us, "we'll study the colonial topography of Eagleland. For example, the city of Threed is built almost entirely on Maximus Prairie. Buffalo once thrived here; but hunters drove them to near extinction and the Dusty Dunes Desert, where they have recovered marginally..."
My eyes dimmed. Dreams came.

"This is the Energy Point of Maximus Prairie!" I exclaimed. "The Energy Point of Darkness!"
I turned around. Ņrutas was pulsing black...
In shock, I dropped the Power Crystal.
It landed right beside Ņrutas. And he exploded!