Blood Moon, page 4
part #1 of The Wizard's Journal Series
The cabby pulled up to the hotel entrance and said, “Stay cool if you can man.”
I smiled, barely, and quickly paid the cabby so I could get out of the sauna posing as a cab. When I walked into the hotel lobby, a sudden change in air temperature stopped me in my tracks. I closed my eyes taking in deep breaths of the welcomed air conditioning when a hotel worker asked if I was alright.
“I am now,” I said and opened my eyes, then walked to the front desk where a middle-aged women greeted me.
“Good evening sir, do you have a reservation?
“Yes, I do. It’s under the name Jonathan Willington.”
The clerk typed my name into a computer as I thanked the stars above for whoever discovered air conditioning.
“Room 1301 Mr. Willington, but maintenance is currently repairing your room air conditioner. We weren’t expecting you for several hours sir.”
Say it isn’t so. I felt a panic attack coming on.
“It’s being repaired?” I asked in disbelief. “And it’s going to take a couple of hours? Are there any other rooms available?”
“No sir,” she replied. “Please accept our apologies and free admission to the show beginning in the main theater at 8:00. It begins 45-minutes from now.”
The desk clerk looked at the ticket and moved her eyebrows up, then smiled and handed it to me.
“Wow, a front row center seat sir. How unusual given the show is also fully booked,” she said, then handed me what looked like a poker chip.
“Please also accept this token for food and refreshments at the bar. It’s complimentary, no charge of course.”
Not bad. I get a dinner and show, all for a little bit of sweat – actually, a lot of sweat.
I accepted the hotel’s consolation gifts and went to the hotel bar. A cold beer sounded like what any good doctor would order for a man who lost five pound in sweat. After I had a beer and a steak sandwich, I felt almost human again. I thanked the bartender and gave him my token, then headed out to find the theater. People were pouring in to a large open area having their tickets punched – that was easy to find.
I fell in line with the human tide and entered an impressively sized theater able to hold 3,000 people easily. I showed my ticket to one of the doormen who looked at the seat location.
“VIP,” the doorman said and motioned to a young lady who would show me to my seat.
“Right this way sir,” she said, then led me to a front row center seat. “Enjoy the show sir.”
I thanked her and sat in my seat while extending my feet outward like I owned the place. I kept feeling the side of my backpack every few minutes to be sure the artifact was still there. It’s not every day someone carries an ancient artifact and scrolls around in a backpack, especially in a city where a few drinks and a poker table could easily gamble it away.
The show began in a typical fashion, albeit my first, but I do occasionally watch television and understood the basics. Lots of girls were dancing in skimpy costumes, feathered hats, sequins glittering, and music filled the theater with sound only a live orchestra could produce.
The first half of the performance lasted about 30 minutes. Once the dancing girls exited, a tall lanky man came out from a side curtain. He asked if everyone was enjoying the show and received enthusiastic clapping and several whistles from the audience.
“Well then, if you enjoyed the show thus far, you will love what is in store for you during intermission,” the man said. “It is my pleasure to present to you, in his first ever performance, a man who defies the natural order of our world. Indeed, you won’t believe your eyes. Please welcome Jules the Elementalist.”
People began to clap as a man walked out to the center of the stage and stopped directly in front of me. The performer was average height with white hair tied into a ponytail that fell nearly a foot below the collar of his dark colored suit. He looked out at the audience with no expression whatsoever, which surprised me being because he was a performer. You’d think a little smile would be a standard procedure in Vegas shows, but Jules the Elementalist was absolutely stone faced.
“Welcome,” the performer said, then raised his hands above his head.
Long sheets of colored silk shot out of the entertainer’s jacket sleeves and floated above his head. A moment later, a gust of wind appeared from nowhere carrying the sheets over the audience, circling and dipping in every direction. There must have been 100 sheets whipping around making a fluttering sound that were not more than 20 feet above us. As fast as it started, the sheets returned to the performer and disappeared back inside his sleeves.
Cool trick. I wonder how he concealed so many sheets in such a tight suit jacket.
The audience erupted into a loud applause while the performer folded his hands and placed them in front at waist height.
“You believe this was magic,” he said. “As you understand such things, perhaps. What you actually experienced was a manipulation of energy that exists in everything surrounding us. The natural or classical elements as you might say.”
Ah, thus the name Jules the Elementalist. Is elementalist even a real word?
“Another illustration,” he said, then looked at a young girl about ten years old sitting two seats to my left. “Child, I know what you dream of when sleeping. You have drawn many pictures of what you wish to be true and pretend your dreams are real.”
This is when I first noticed the performer’s brilliant blue eye color, which pierced the air with intensity without blinking. The young girl smiled while looking at her mother and then back at the performer.
“So be it,” the performer said, maintaining his stone face gaze, then stepping back several feet.
Jules the Elementalist raised his right hand at shoulder height, muttered something too soft to hear, and a bright green sheet of silk flew out his sleeve. It was a very large sheet and it circled him several times before moving to his right whirling in long circular motions. The bottom of the sheet dragged across the stage and the top rose up twenty feet. I once again wondered how he hid this in his jacket. All of a sudden, the sheet shot up into the air out of sight revealing a white horse with a spiral horn coming out of his head. It was a unicorn, or a horse with a Styrofoam horn glued to his head. The horse bobbed its head up and down snorting breathes while pawing the stage with one hoof.
The audience gasped and the little girl’s smile turned into a look of amazement with her mouth wide open. Jules looked at the young girl and said, “See child, what you dream of is indeed real.”
The girl began laughing and applauding as did the audience. In a flash, the green sheet descended from above and danced around the unicorn, horse, or whatever. After several fast circles around the animal, the sheet vanished up the performer’s sleeve from where it came and the horse was gone.
Now that’s an Impressive trick.
“How many of you truly understand nature’s wonders or remember what you know deep inside is true?” Jules asked, then looked directly at me, his eyes even more piercing than before.
“What do you believe sir?” he asked me. “Do you remember what you have always known to be true?”
Okay, Jules is a weirdo. I tried not to blink in a vain attempt to stare him down. It didn’t work. I blinked.
Jules moved his gaze back to the audience and said nothing while a sheet, this time red in color, shot out from somewhere behind him and began circling him. After a few moments, the sheet shot up into the air and disappeared, as did Jules. The audience again gasped in surprise, then fell into silence. A few hands began to clap and the entire audience joined in while dancers flowed back onto the stage with music playing.
I bet there is a trap door on the stage, but if there was, I can’t see it. How in the world did he do that?
Too bad the magic act was so short. I would have enjoyed watching Jules show us more tricks despite him creeping me out with his stare.
It was getting late, so I decided not stay for the remainder of the show. I needed a good night sleep since my flight to New York would be boarding at 7:30 AM, which meant an early wakeup call. After the front desk confirmed that my room was ready, I headed up the elevator and was please to easily find my room. A sign posted on the hallway wall showed me that my room was to the left, and as one might hope after a long day, just a couple of doors down the corridor.
Hotels all use electronic card locks now on their room doors. I never trusted these things and thought some wiz-kid with a tablet and Mission Impossible code breaker might find a way in. To make my paranoia even more acute, I reminded myself that I was carrying an ancient artifact pre-dating the history of modern man, and to combat the unseen enemy – teenage wiz-kids – I decided to keep the artifact in arm reach at all times.
As hotel rooms go, my room was exceptionally nice and clean. It had a large king sized bed with a fresh pillow and new bed covers. Equally satisfying was seeing clean white towels neatly folded to welcome guests and a wall caddy filled with dispensable soap and shampoo. The very thought of taking a long hot shower and having a clean bed to pass out on was almost too much to good to be true.
Chapter 4
There are few things in this world as good as a hot shower, but at the moment, I couldn’t think of anything even remotely close. Without hesitation, I undressed and soaked myself in a long hot liquid piece of heaven for what had to be at least 40 minutes. All the aches and pains washed away while my mind relaxed as best possible knowing what I discovered.
When I opened my shower curtain, I couldn’t see anything because there was so much steam – it looked like a foggy bog. I had to feel my way along the wall to turn on the ceiling fan and vent the steam out. The artifact was still safe in my backpack sitting next to the towel rack, albeit a little wet from all the moisture.
“Arms reach … keep the artifact at arms reach,” I muttered.
After completing all the nighttime procedures one does before going to sleep, I grabbed my backpack, placed it next to the bed, and pulled the sheets up to my chin. I was in a state of bliss and just closed my eyes when the phone rang. I looked at my watch showing it was 11:30 PM. Really, someone is calling me now at this hour. I considered whether or not I should answer, probably a wrong number, but I answered with obvious irritation in my voice.
“This better be good.”
“Um … excuse me Mr. Willington, sorry for disturbing you at this hour. There is a package at the front desk addressed to you marked urgent. I thought you would want to know.”
“Who is it from?”
“I don’t know sir. There is no return address or anything indicating who it is from. You will need to signed for it sir.”
“Alright, I’ll be right down.”
I got dressed and stuck the artifact under my coat in the small of my back, like someone might do when carrying a concealed pistol, then headed to the lobby. While in the elevator, I began thinking about the series of incredible events that occurred over these past couple of days.
What happened at the Gate of the gods? Are the scrolls a warning? How is the Galactic Alignment related?
There was no Armageddon or significant world event when the Mayan calendar ended on December 21, 2012. What does it all mean?
“Lots of questions and no answers,” I muttered, watching the elevator numbers count down to the lobby.
Gaining an understanding of what the etched symbols on the artifact meant dwarfed all my other concerns. Until that mystery was solved, nothing else would make any sense.
The front desk clerk recognized me from checking in earlier. “Mr. Willington, please accept my apology again for placing a call to your room so late.”
“No problem,” I said.
There was not much time before having to get up for my flight, so I wasn’t overly concerned about offending the clerk. My mouth may have said no problem, but my mind was saying: get on with it lady.
“Please sign here sir.”
I signed a form and the clerk handed me a small package. It was one of those mailer envelopes with an inside layer of bubble wrap. Everyone says they hate hearing bubble wrap being popped, but everyone still does it, so in keeping with tradition I popped a couple bubbles myself. The clerk looked up and smiled.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” I said, smiling back at the clerk. “It’s been a long day.”
Inside the envelop was a small quarter sized stone attached to a silver necklace. For a second I thought the stone glowed and felt a slight static shock.
“What in the world is this?” I asked, again gaining the clerks attention.
“Is everything alright sir?”
“Are you sure that you didn’t see who left this for me?”
“I am sure sir, it just appeared on the counter top while I was keying information into my computer. One moment the counter was clear, the next your package was on it.”
“Okay, thank you.”
I held the necklace in my hand as I rode the elevator up to my room. It was intricately designed with a silver clasp on top of a deep blue stone and that six thin silver strips wrapped around it. Both the silver and stone looked high quality and there were strange markings on them.
Maybe it’s more than a trinket. Nah, someone must be playing a gag on me, perhaps Jackie my lab assistant … but she doesn’t even know I’m in Las Vegas.
After entering my room, I placed the artifact back in my backpack next to the nightstand and continued admiring the craftsmanship of the necklace. Whoever owned the necklace will be looking for it early tomorrow after realizing the package was addressed to me in error. Right now, finely crafted jewelry was not on the top of my list of things to be concerned about. I placed the necklace on the nightstand next to my watch and was ready to call it a night – again.
A do not disturb button on the phone caught my attention. I thought about pressing the button so no additional calls could come through, but that would also prevent my wakeup call, so I left it alone. After a good yawn, I decided everything could wait until tomorrow morning and resumed what I hoped would be a comfortable uninterrupted rest under warm bed sheets. I reached over the bedside again, feeling into my unzipped backpack to reassure myself the artifact was still there. Yup, all is good, and seconds later, knock, knock, knock. Someone was at the door.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said while thrashing my arms and legs, which tossed the sheet and blanket onto the floor. I got up and peeked through the tiny glass hole on the door and saw a man standing on the other side. It looked like the magician from the show.
“You got the wrong room buddy,” I said.
The man lifted his eyes up as though he could see me through the other side of the peep hole, which startled me and I instinctively stepped back.
“Sir, I need to speak with you about the amulet you picked up at the front desk.”
“Amulet … ah, the necklace. Yea, okay. Hold on and I’ll get it.”
I put my pants on and picked up the amulet thinking again that I saw it glow a little. I opened the door and there was no one there. Must be sleep depravation. I closed the door and double locked it. When I turned around, I saw the magician sitting in the chair facing the door.
“What the hell … how did you do that?” I asked, pointing to the door.
“My name is Kyiel. I am here to assist you in your journey of recognition,” he said.
“Recognition? Look pal, I don’t know what you’re selling, but I’m not buying. I also make it my policy to steer away from lunatics, especially those who break into my hotel room trying to sell me some motivation program, or whatever it is you’re selling.”
Granted, this guy has some talent on stage, not to mention accessing electronic door locks, but he must have a screw or two loose in his head. I turned and opened the room door.
“Now, get the heck out of my room,” I said and turned pointing to the hallway.
When I turned back around to where the guy was sitting, he was gone – again. I mean poof, no where to be seen gone. I must be dreaming. I slapped myself thinking it would wake me up if I was dreaming.
“Ouch … not a dream,” I muttered. “Maybe I’m hallucinating.”
My room was small with nowhere to hide, except maybe under the bed, which is the first place I checked. Nope, no one there … thank goodness, that would have been beyond freaky strange. I checked the window, which was not really necessary because my room was on the 13th floor with no fire escape, but wasn’t taking any chances. I scratched my head and thought a hallucination was the only rational explanation.
I heard the guy’s voice again and jumped tangling myself in the window blind pull cord. The guy was not in sight and I could not determine where his voice was coming from. It sounded like someone was speaking in a tunnel with an echo.
“Azul, you must keep the amulet with you at all times,” the voice said. “Wear it always. Only the amulet can protect you during recognition.”
“Where the hell are you?”
“They know you have returned Azul and will try to destroy you,” the voice warned.
“Who the heck is Azul? Oh, I get it. This is one of those hidden videos pranks, right? Am I on television?”
There was no response. I stood still for a moment in silence thinking that jolt I got at the Gate of the gods did some neurological damage. First thing to do back in Boston is see a doctor. My heart was pounding and adrenalin raced through my system as though I drank a pot of coffee. I checked the room again, even under the bed, and found no one anywhere in the room.
What did this guy call himself? Kyle, Cal? No, it was Kyiel. I thought his name was Jules.
I was still holding the necklace in my hand and expected to see something weird happen, like more glowing, but it appeared completely normal. Not surprisingly, I felt the urge to get as far away from my hotel room as possible, so I grabbed my backpack and rode the elevator down to the lobby. I tried to convince myself along the way I imagined the whole thing, or maybe I was sleep walking.
“Right, just my imagination getting the better of me,” I muttered sarcastically. “Okay then, it must be a gag.”
