The Crystal Child (41 page)

The room was dark, the curtains tightly drawn, but Julia knew her way.  She led Alex to the sofa, then sat beside him.  “Wait for your eyes to adjust,” she said.  Then a long silence.  Alex sat rigidly in the darkness as if he expected to be attacked.  After several minutes he became aware of a small, unsteady glow at the end of the room.  It came and went, moving, slithering from one place to another, a pale, erratic sparkle.  “You see it now, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.  It was an odd light, not electrical.  Softer, more blurred — like the light fire flies make.  Organic flame.

“Now, come with me.”  She rose and led him toward the small, wandering light.  Gradually, Alex was able to bring something more into focus.  The light was inside a gleaming, translucent shell.  It was moving up, down, left, right, then vanishing, returning, lengthening into long, flickering strands.  Julia said nothing, but he knew she wanted him to examine the light more closely.  From where he stood now, Alex could now see long bright threads that were winding around one another, filaments of pale fire, bluish, pinkish.  The shell that encased the light, he now saw, was large and had a distinct shape, a familiar shape.  And then it fell into place.  There was a head, a torso, shoulders, arms, all fashioned out of glass.   The nearly transparent shell had the form of a small human being.  It was seated in a chair.

What a queer thing,
Alex thought.

“What is it?” he asked in a whisper.  And just as he spoke, the form moved. The part that was shaped like a head turned.  In spite of himself, Alex jumped back, his blood suddenly turning cold.  “Hey!” he burst out.  Was this some trick?  The glass figure in the chair seemed to be staring at him.  It had eyes and the eyes were alive.  The figure raised one arm from its lap and reached toward him.  The errant light inside the glass vessel was now brighter, more active, pulsing with the rhythm of a heartbeat.  Alex wanted to speak but realized he had lost his voice.  His mouth had gone bone dry.

Julia, at the window now, began to draw back the curtains, letting a small shaft of sunlight into the room.  Alex could see the entire figure in the chair.  It was the shape and size of a child, naked and transparent.  It was animated in some way from inside; it was reaching out with both hands.  And it was making a sound — a small crooning moan.  The  lips of the thing were trying to form words, not succeeding.  Then as if this effort had exhausted it, it lowered its hands and went silent.  The light inside receded and dimmed.

“Mom, what is it?”  Alex asked again, his voice reduced to a whisper.

She did not answer him.  Instead she bent close to the form in the chair and called its attention to Alex.  She whispered at its ear.  “Alex is here. He’s come to take us away.”

“My God!”, Alex blurted out the words.  “Is that
him?”
 He crouched beside his mother.  “What’s going on?”

“I have no idea.  He may be the only one who knows.  He’s been moving through some process for weeks now, but more rapidly over the last few days.”

“Christ! It’s hideous.”  Yet Alex could not take his eyes off the strange, crystalline figure seated in the chair before them.

“You think so?” Julia asked.

“Of course I do.  It’s not human.”

“No, not human.  I agree.  But not hideous.”  Julia knelt to stare into the face of the creature.  It turned slowly in her direction as liquidly as a shape made of static water.   She drew her hand over its head and shoulders.  “I think he’s quite beautiful.  A sort of metamorphosis.  Of course I’ve been watching him closely all through the change.  I’ve seen it coming on little by little.  He doesn’t speak now.  Not for four days.  His last words were something about light.  It was hard to hear.  ‘The light leaves the water.’  I think that’s what he said.  Or it might have been ‘The light loves the water.’ ” She was stroking the transparent figure, her hand passing slowly over its face and chest.  Dreamily now, she asked, “Do you know about the light and the water?  It’s an old story.  Nobody tells these stories any more.  Nobody knows the language.”  Her voice took on a crooning softness as if she were talking to herself.  “The light is the male seed, the water is the female vessel.  At the beginning of time, the light looked down and saw itself reflected in the water.  But when the light descended …”

“Mom,” Alex said, wanting to stop her.  “How can you take him away from here like that?  That’s not Aaron any more.  That’s some ghastly thing.  It can’t really be alive.”

“I think he’s more alive than we are.  He once told me there are levels of life.  The essential form is unmixed, unblemished.  It never dies.  It continues.  None of us have ever seen life like that, life in its purest form.  He’s on his way there. He won’t be at it much longer.  But I won’t leave him here, not any trace of him, not a scrap, nothing that could be a specimen.”

“You mean you want him to come with us?  You really want that?”

She did not answer.  Instead she sat gazing blankly at the silent and silvery form.  Alex wanted to take hold of her and shake her, pull her after him out of the room.  But he remembered what Forrester had said. 
A spell … she’s under a spell.

***

Back in her room with Alex asleep on her bed, Julia studied the envelope he had given her as if it might be booby-trapped.   Should she read what Forrester had sent?  Did she want to have any further relationship with this troubled, presumptuous man?  Opening the envelope, she noticed the digital readout that came with the letter.  It aroused her curiosity, and she read.

I can’t leave things as they were when we parted.  At the very least I owe you an apology for forcing myself on you.  It was rude and impertinent.  Why did I do it?  The best explanation I can give is that I wanted you to know there was someone who cared enough for you to offer protection if you decide to return to the States.  At least that’s what I tell myself to avoid feeling like a total fool.  If I’m going to be honest, I might as well admit that there was something more that came over me once I had you in my arms.  Old memories.  And a love I may have been fleeing for the past twenty years — apparently unsuccessfully.  You may not welcome that love, but please know you can rely on it for any help you may need.  And I believe you do need help.

I’m not much for trusting to feelings — as you know — but whatever intuition I still possess tells me you aren’t safe where you are.  Before I left I had a run-in with DeLeon. We talked for about an hour, long enough for me to realize what a ruthless son of a bitch he is.  More than that, in his presence I had a distinct sense of evil — a word I can’t remember using in many years.  You may not wish to return to the US, but, Julia, I advise you not to stay with DeLeon.  Where money and power are concerned, the man is a maniac.

What follows is the most difficult part of this letter.  I’ve started and stopped several times.  Do give some careful attention to the readout I enclose.  It’s a shotgun sequencing of Aaron’s blood.  Interpret this as a white flag of surrender.  I give up — I guess that’s the gist of it.  I will be making no further demands on Aaron or on you   I say that after examining the sample Aaron passed along to me.  Not a very good specimen, of course.  But I suspect Aaron knew what I would find.  Shall I tell you?  His DNA corresponds to nothing I’ve ever seen. All the right chemistry is there, but the configuration is like something from another world.  Subjected to laser confocal microscopy, it appears as a circle of nucleic acids.  The closest thing I know to such a structure is a bacterial plasmid.  In form, this is a kind of reversion, a throwback to some simpler, more primitive level of evolution — as if life were starting all over again.   As far as its genetic chemistry is concerned, this is a distinctly human genome, but with the two strands of the helix braided in a way that would be incapable of replication or reproduction.  So is this life at dead end?  Or at some point of perfection with no need to go any further?  I’m sure you’ll see some mystical significance in all this. And maybe you’re right.   (You see how weak-minded I’m becoming in my professional dotage.)

I have no idea what such a genetic transformation means.  If I tried to go public with a finding like this, I’d be laughed out of the guild.  A specimen collected as this one was would simply be dismissed as a damaged sample, and I would be dismissed as an idiot for taking it seriously.  As Aaron must have known, this can’t go beyond me.  A rather nasty joke.  For the remainder of my career I will be haunted by the knowledge that everything we think we know about genetics is at best a partial truth or possibly dead wrong.  There is something like a parallel genetic universe where the rules of my science don’t apply.  That one exception tears a hole as big as a mountain in my work.  Aaron was right — science, by its nature, is forced to ignore the unique and unrepeatable.  But once you have witnessed the unique, you can’t forget that it remains a possibility.  How many others have there been like Aaron, startling exceptions that were never recorded?  And if there were others, where are they now?  Not dead and gone.  They could not be, unless they were destroyed as freaks wherever they appeared.

I daresay that won’t happen to Aaron.  But where will he end up?  Is there any chance these remarkable changes will reverse and leave him too debilitated to survive?  Flesh and blood are not infinitely malleable.  There must be a limit to the plasticity the organism can achieve, especially in a single generation.  I advise you to watch carefully for any sign of that.  I also advise you to take care that DeLeon doesn’t try to lay claim to him — living or dead.  He has designs on the boy.  He is determined to pry secrets out of Aaron’s genome.  He would like me to assist in that.  When he finds out that I won’t do that, he may become quite reckless.

Take care, Julia.  If you can, please think of me as a loyal ally — and a loving friend.

Kevin

All the while Alex slept in her room, Julia watched over him.  He had dozed off before he had the chance to wash and shave.  When at last he woke and his head had cleared, he did his best to make Julia feel secure.  “They’re not going to get away with this,” he assured her.  “I didn’t give them permission to move my car.  Do you know where they put it?  I’ll go and get it.  Don’t worry.  I’ll get us out of here.”  He did not want to seem out of his depth, but Julia could sense his anxiety.

“I’m sure we’ll work this out,” she said, trying not to sound like the comforting parent.  But her words did little to dispel his confusion.

“Mom, you’ve got to tell me more about what’s going on.  Are you sure Aaron hasn’t skipped out on you?”

“What do you mean?”

“That thing in there — it might be some kind of trick.  Kevin told me Aaron performed some kind of healing when he was here. He thought that could have been a trick.”

“Kevin didn’t spend much time with Aaron.  He knows very little.”

“Yes, but Aaron was on his own here, away from you for over a year.  Maybe he had a plan for skipping out.”

Julia shook her head.  “No, Alex.  I’ve seen him through this metamorphosis.  There are no tricks involved.”

“Then what is that thing in the room over there”

She had asked herself the same question many times.  “I think it’s a chrysalis.  The last act of the magical body.  And I think it’s a door.  But I can’t say where it leads.”

It was an answer that told him nothing, except how much his mother had changed.  He had never heard her talk this way.  It was not a change he welcomed; it hinted too much of Aaron’s influence.  He remembered how Forrester had described Aaron. “An evil little wizard,” he had said.  How did Aaron manage to have this effect on people?  He turned their minds around, even the minds of dedicated scientists.  Alex wanted to ask more, but Julia rose and walked to one of the windows, clearly cutting off the conversation.  “This guy DeLeon,” Alex said at last, “he wouldn’t really try to keep us here against our will, would he?  I mean that’s kidnapping, isn’t it?”  Julia gave no answer to Alex’s question.  She had no idea how far DeLeon might go to get what he wanted, which was, at the least, control of Aaron. He might release Alex and herself, but she had no doubt that if he saw Aaron’s condition, he would want him to remain.  He would make a striking trophy.

“So do you have any idea what to do?” Alex asked, his voice turning lame and confused.

“I’ve already done it,” she said.

***

She had called in the middle of the night, having no idea where he might be, uncertain that the phone he had left with her any longer had the strength to reach him.  But it did.  In Manila, in the early morning of the next day, he was dressing in his hotel room when his Tokyo office phoned to tell him Dr. Stein was trying to reach him.  When he got through to her, she sounded broken and sobbing.  Across the distance of half a world, he lost most of what she said, but the fear he heard in her voice as it faded and returned told him all he needed to know.  “Please come,” were her last words.  And he promised he would, though he could not be sure she heard.

Renting a car as soon as he landed in San Diego, Isobe, more jet-lagged than he wished to admit, was at the gates of Tlaloc within three days of receiving Julia’s call.  Sylvana was the first to hear him announced at the front door by Eduardo.  She sent at once for DeLeon at San Lazaro.  “Isobe is here,” she told him.  “He will take them away.”

“Keep him there,” DeLeon snapped.  “They are not to leave.  Tell them at the gate.”

Returning to Isobe, Sylvana could not hide her agitation.  Still she tried her best to be the gracious hostess.  “Only water,” he answered when she asked if he wanted something to eat.  He wanted no food, no small talk.  Standing alert before her, his face was calm but cold.  She had never seen him so unkempt: unshaven, his clothes rumpled. “Please to tell Julia I am here,” he said.  It was the third time he had made the request, but his tone remained politely silken, as if he were prepared to ask over and over again.  Sylvana found his placidity more unsettling than any threat he might utter.  It was no secret to her or to DeLeon that Julia had taken Isobe as a lover; that was known to every servant in the house. He was Julia’s guardian.

At last she dropped the pretense.  “I will never let you enter my house again,” she said.

Isobe bowed impassively. He settled into the nearest chair and opened a large portmanteau he had brought. He showed her what it contained: blueprints, notebooks, sketch books.  “Everything,” he said.  “History and anatomy of Tlaloc.  Best you will find somebody young and eager to take over.  Somebody obedient.  Best you should work with him.”  He deposited the portmanteau at her feet.  “Now, please, I have adjustments to make.”  Without asking permission, he bowed and moved past her into the house.

***

As he raced back to Tlaloc, his chauffeur driving as fast as the roads permitted, DeLeon had only one clear thought in mind:
Isobe is not to be trifled with
.  The man was watchful and secretive, a cunning observer who took in more than he let anyone know.  He saw and heard things without showing it: never surprised, never critical, polite to the point of annoyance.  Unwisely — DeLeon now saw — he had allowed Isobe access to his affairs for over eight years.  The man had become a fixture of Tlaloc: the architect forever fussing over loose ends and minor details around the property — replacing a window here, altering the landscaping there.  He could very well have been snooping into anything that drew his curiosity.  Isobe, a celebrity in his own right, had sat in on parties where drink, drugs, and gossip flowed freely, a near-silent, somewhat intimidating presence, offering clipped answers as if his English were minimal, watching but never participating in the fun.  He had been given the run of the house, and had clearly made good use of it for his own purposes.  Look how he had taken advantage of Julia, claiming her favor as if he, rather than DeLeon, were her host and protector.  How long had they been sleeping together?  Most of the last year?  DeLeon could not imagine what she saw in him, an unsociable man from an alien culture, a mocking cynic who took nothing seriously, least of all Julia’s own contribution to the healing arts.  He had even scoffed at Aaron, in his own discreet way.  He should never have been told about the boy, DeLeon saw that now.  But how could such a secret be kept from him?  There was nothing about Tlaloc or San Lazaro Isobe did not know.  Business secrets, sources of money, legal problems, political connections, private relationships.  Yet he in turn revealed nothing.  Walled up in his own impenetrable fortress as he was, Isobe had powerful friends, patrons, admirers in many places around the world.  Governments, corporate leaders, cultural mandarins entrusted him with billion-dollar commissions.  At times DeLeon envied the circles Isobe moved in.  This was not someone DeLeon could detain or intimidate.

By the time DeLeon reached Tlaloc, Sylvana had lost track of Isobe.  “I could not make him stay,” Sylvana explained.  “He simply went, as if he owned the house.  Out of the room and … I don’t know where.  ‘Adjustments’ he said he had to make.  What adjustments?”  She looked a ruin, her make-up streaked with tears, her hair askew.  Hysteria foamed just below all she said.

“He’s with Julia, isn’t he?”

“I think.  What will he do?  Take the boy?  He must not.  You must not let him.”

“They will not leave,” DeLeon assured her, but she could tell his mind was racing to find a way to make sure of that.

She thrust herself at DeLeon, her hands fisted at her breasts.  “If the boy leaves,” she hissed, “I will kill myself.  Do you understand?”  Her face was that of a harpy, scowling, vindictive.

“Sylvana,” DeLeon half shouted.  “For God’s sake, get a grip on yourself.  I must think.”

She came closer, her hot, drawn face at his cheek.  “You hear what I say.  If they take him away …”  She stopped, seeing DeLeon’s eyes widen at the sight of something behind her.  She spun around to see them in the doorway.  Isobe, Julia, and Alex.  Isobe, his face hardened into an expression of cold determination, led the others into the room as if he were escorting hunted refugees across a guarded border.  He was carrying Alex’s duffle and a battered suitcase.  Julia, just behind him, was spent and unkempt.  Her free hand clung to Isobe’s arm; her other held a shopping bag filled with books.  Alex was the last to enter.  His eyes were bright with excitement.  But DeLeon and Sylvana barely registered the three of them.  Their gaze went instead to the bundle that Alex hugged to his chest.  Wrapped in a blanket, the thing he held was no larger than a small child might be.  Both were looking for Aaron.  Why was Aaron not with Julia?   Neither had seen the boy for many weeks now.  Julia had told them of “changes” he had undergone.  What changes?  Their gaze riveted on the thing in Alex’s arms, they were now afraid to ask.

DeLeon stood up to block the way.  “Please, let us talk.  You must not be hasty.”

“No need to talk,” Isobe said, a quiet, firm tone.  “Julia wishes to leave.  We all wish to leave.  And so.”

“You can’t,” DeLeon said.  “I’ve sent your car away.”  He had done that when he arrived, ordering Isobe’s car to be parked in a garage at the rear where Alex’s van had been hidden.

“Please to have Alex’s car brought,” Isobe said, a quiet but menacing command.

“Not yet,” DeLeon snapped, trying to charge his voice with authority.

“Yes, now,” Isobe insisted, his tone unchanged.

“What I may do is call the police.”

The remark surprised Isobe.  “Yes? And when they come?”

DeLeon nodded toward Julia.  “I’ll turn her in as a parole violator.  And Aaron as a runaway.  I swear to you.”

“But you sheltered them,” Isobe reminded him.

“That won’t matter.  They deceived me.  I will play the good citizen and turn them in.  I will.  I’m respected here.  I’ll be believed.  I would do that before I would let you take the boy away.  This much I know.  The last thing she wants …”  Again he nodded at Julia, this time staring her full in the face, trying to make her wilt into submission.  “ … is to have Aaron taken by the authorities.  Where would he be better off?  In their hands or in mine?  Well, if you try to leave, that’s what will happen, he’ll be treated to the tender mercies of courts and cops and juvenile supervision.  Is that what you prefer?”  He moved in closer, as if he might try to wrest Julia away from Isobe.  “Isn’t that so?  What would Aaron say if you let that happen?  If you betrayed him?”

Julia clung tighter to Isobe. “Aaron is beyond that,” she said.

“Oh? Is he?  And where is he?  Why isn’t he coming with you if he’s so eager to leave?  Let’s allow him to speak for himself, shall we?”

“He’s here,” Julia said. “But he won’t speak.”

At once DeLeon’s eyes shifted to Alex, to the bundle he held.  “Is he there?” Sylvana cried, her hand at her lips.  “They must not take him away.”  She reached for DeLeon’s shoulders, her withered hands digging into him like claws as she screamed at Julia, “I have said I will die before I let him go away.  You hear me?”

DeLeon wrenched her hands away, forcing her down into a chair.  “I told you they won’t leave.  They don’t dare.”

There was a long pause.  Isobe made a face that displayed growing discomfort.  “You are keeping it very warm today,” he said, mopping at his brow.  He was not sweating, but the gesture called attention to the heat that was rising in the house.

DeLeon, now noticing, gave him a blank stare, then shook off the remark with annoyance. “What does that have to do with …”

“Please,” Isobe went on.  “Why must it be so warm?”

Burning with impatience, DeLeon hastened across the room to check the thermostat, knocking into a table as he made his way.  A fragile vase fell to the floor, spilling the flowers and water it held.  At the wall, DeLeon squinted to read the thermostat. The small screen that registered the temperature was blank.  He had never seen it blank before.  He pushed at a few buttons but got no result.  He turned to Isobe.  “It isn’t working.  I have no idea why … ”

Isobe cut him short, holding out a black, oblong object.  “This will work.  Only this will work.”  DeLeon returned to investigate the object.  He could tell from the read-out that it was a mobile thermostat.  He noted the temperature at once.  Twenty-eight degrees Celsius, well above the usual indoor setting.  As he studied the little device, the number blinked off and was replaced with twenty-nine degrees.  “Very useful instrument,” Isobe said.  “When you install heating, you can check temperature from everywhere.”

DeLeon glanced back toward the wall.  “But why isn’t that one working?”

“I have made small adjustment,” Isobe said.  “Now you must use this to control heat and cold.”

The device in DeLeon’s hand blinked again.  Thirty degrees.  “But it isn’t that hot outside,” he observed.

“No.  Only inside.  Inside will be very warm soon.  Thirty-five degrees, forty degrees.”

“But I don’t want it that hot,” DeLeon snapped.  “Here, change it to the normal setting.” He held out the thermostat, trying to return it to Isobe.

Isobe stepped away, bowing.  “Is very easy to use.  Look at menu.  See?  ‘Change Settings.’  Just press.”

DeLeon, growing more agitated by the moment, poked at a key.  A message appeared. 
Enter access code.
  “It wants an access code,” he hissed, his anger beginning to get the better of him.

Isobe nodded gravely.  “Gates to heaven and hell closed.  To open, you must have access code.”

“So what is the code, God damn it?” DeLeon growled.  He was losing his focus now, convinced that Isobe was tricking him.

“Guess,” Isobe said, smiling impishly.  “Five letters.”

“Christ!” DeLeon yipped.  “Will you stop …”

“Perhaps code is a name,” Isobe continued.  “Perhaps ‘Aaron.’  Or ‘Aaron’ backwards.  Or ‘Julia.’  Not ‘Sylvana.’  Too many letters.  Guess.”

“Of course I can’t guess,” DeLeon half shouted.  “What the hell are you playing at?”

“When Julia and Alex are at the gate,” Isobe said, “you will tell guards to let them pass.  Then I give you the code.”