The Last Timekeepers and the Arch of Atlantis (7 page)

“M-My great aunt was a Timekeeper?” Melody asked, covering her mouth.

“Yes, Melody Spencer. Both Florence Whitney and Frances Tarbush were wonderful Timekeepers. They learned how to flow with time and not be trapped by it. Unfortunately, Max Tarbush chose to take another path and was not so lucky.”

“Wait a minute. Max Tarbush? Why does that name ring a bell?” Professor Lucas asked, as he pushed his fishing hat off his forehead to scratch it. He snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah, now I remember, he was presumed murdered sometime back in the early twentieth century. The urban legend goes that Tarbush got into some money problems with a few of the lumber mills in White Pines. Apparently the man loved to gamble. Then one night while closing up his hotel for the evening, Tarbush was attacked. The rumors say it was probably someone Tarbush cheated on in a card game. A few of the hotel’s guests heard shouting going on downstairs, and by the time they went to investigate, they found a puddle of blood in the backyard, but no trail. Now, this is where the mystery comes in, because a severed hand was also discovered on the ground, still twitching. To this day, Tarbush’s body has never materialized.”

“Cool story, Professor Lucas. Sounds like a mob hit to me,” Treena said, running a finger underneath her throat.

“On the contrary, Treena Mui,” Lilith said. “Max Tarbush disappeared into time.”

“Disappeared into time? How?” Ravi asked, his voice almost squeaking.

“Max Tarbush was a victim of his own dark machinations, Ravi Sharma,” Lilith answered. She turned and glided toward a marble column.

Amanda noticed that the top of the tall, polished column was covered by a shimmering, purple cloth. Lilith lifted the cloth to reveal a crystal ball the size of a huge grapefruit, held up by two bronze hands.

Lilith stepped back. “It would be easier if I
show
you what happened. All you need to do is take a deep breath and stare into Poseidon’s Eye.”

Amanda inhaled, and suddenly she was drifting, as if she were being hypnotized, sliding, whirling, and spiraling into another dimension, another place. When Amanda’s head stopped spinning, she saw a young girl wearing a ratty apron-like dress. The girl was thin and had dark iridescent hair tied in a neat bun. She was serving drinks to a group of men playing cards at a table in a parlor decorated with ugly floral wallpaper. Amanda started to make out voices—the men sounded drunk, loud, and obnoxious. A man with dark bushy hair and an equally dark bushy mustache, dressed in a pin-striped suit, stood up and pointed toward a large, picturesque window.

“I’ll wager that stone arch to clear all my debts with you,” the man said.

Amanda looked at what he was pointing to, and her eyes bugged. It was the Arch of Atlantis! The young girl dropped the tray of drinks. “Oh no, you mustn’t, sir! Mrs. Tarbush would be most upset!”

Another man, wearing a cleaner, pressed suit, laughed. “I see the women have the run of your establishment, Max. It’s no wonder your finances are in such a mess!”

Knowing now it was Max Tarbush, Amanda watched him grab the girl’s arm and twist it viciously. “Hold your tongue, Florence! Else you’ll be in for the beating of your life!”

“B-B-But, sir, Mrs. Tarbush adores that stone arch! I shall tell her, I will!”

Max Tarbush raised his hand and started to beat Florence, over and over again. She screamed, but no one came to help her. The other men got up and left. Blood drizzled from her face and speckled her apron. Amanda’s heart raced, her fists balled, her mouth turned to cotton. Then, as if time shifted, she saw young Florence curled up next to a weathered shed. The night sky rumbled and flickered until a flash of forked lightning made Amanda flinch. A stout woman with short brown hair suddenly appeared in the garden, holding out a lantern as if searching for someone. She wore pleated pants and a blouse with ruffles. A Babel necklace swung across her ample chest. A sudden gasp escaped her broad lips upon finding the beaten girl, and she collapsed next her. Placing the lantern on the ground, she ran her ruddy hands gently along the length of Florence’s thin body until she cupped her swollen and bruised face.

“Did…Did Maxwell do this, child?” the woman asked in horror.

Florence whimpered. “Aye, Mrs. Tarbush, but I stood up to him. He was going to wager your beautiful stone arch in a card game while you were away. But I told him he mustn’t. I knew everything would change if he did.”

Amanda could feel the woman’s anger rippling under her own skin. Raging against the man—her husband, Max Tarbush—Frances Tarbush stood up, and spying an axe leaning against the shed, she grabbed it. It didn’t take her long to find Max Tarbush, who was sitting alone at the card table, pouring himself another drink. Amanda’s nostrils flared. The heavy scent of cheap whiskey filled her up, made her retch.

“How dare you lay a beating on that girl!” Frances seethed. “And how many times have I told you, the stone arch is off limits to you, Maxwell!”

Max Tarbush looked up from his stupor and laughed. Amanda could tell that Frances Tarbush was at her limit by the way she gripped the axe handle. Then, hearing nothing but glass shattering, Amanda winced as Frances Tarbush swept the axe across the table, grazing her husband’s forehead, and knocking him off his chair.
Bang!
He screamed, clutching his head.

With the axe still in her grasp, Frances Tarbush bolted out the door, into the backyard, and headed for the Arch of Atlantis. Not far behind, Max Tarbush stumbled and staggered across the ground, spewing obscenities Amanda had never heard before. She blushed anyway.

A bolt of lightning ripped through the darkness and hit the crystal trident set in the keystone of the Arch of Atlantis. Finger-like sparks flew from the trident like fireworks, and the arch started to hum. The sound screamed through Amanda’s body, making her feel woozy, almost to the point of being sick. Frances Tarbush led her husband to the threshold of the droning arch, and turned, holding out the axe in front of her.

Max Tarbush skidded to a stop, almost falling. His forehead was cut and bleeding, his breathing irregular and harsh. He wiped his brow and held out his hand. “Give me the axe, Frances, and I’ll spare the girl’s life.”

Frances shook her head and stood her ground. Amanda swallowed hard, tasting bile, just as Max Tarbush charged his wife. She stepped to the right, and Max went sailing into the archway, disappearing into a swirling black hole. Fear, anger, pain exploded through Amanda. She hugged herself. A morbid scream echoed out of the archway with such intensity, it knocked Frances Tarbush off balance. She fell to the ground, and the axe flew out of her hands.

“Not so fast, my love!” Max Tarbush sputtered as half his body emerged from the archway. He grabbed her foot. “I’ll show you who wears the pants around here!”

Amanda jumped. His voice sounded mechanical. Part of him was still stuck in the dark, whirling void. Her eyes widened. He was planning to take his wife with him!

“Noooo!” Florence screamed and scrambled across the grass toward the axe.

Florence clenched her jaw and gripped the axe handle as if it were part of her. She raised the axe as far above her head as she could muster and then swung it down with enough force to chop off Max’s hand. His screams permeated Amanda’s being as she watched his blood gush everywhere. Suddenly, the arch released the crystal trident from its keystone just as the raging black whirlwind sucked Max into oblivion, leaving Frances Tarbush and Florence Whitney behind, hugging each other in sudden silence.

Amanda shuddered, feeling the darkest part of humanity, of herself, leave her body in that instant. She knew it was there, yet she knew she was safe from all the Max Tarbushes in the world. Then it was over just as quickly as it had begun, and Amanda slipped back into the present.

Lilith carefully covered Poseidon’s Eye with the purple cloth. “You must remember to make sure you protect those people living in the present by taking the crystal trident out of the keystone during each Timekeeper mission. It is imperative that you do this.”

“Awesome, Lilith! That was better than any horror flick I’ve ever seen,” Ravi said, rubbing his prosthesis. “It was like watching a totally hyped-up 3D version.”

“How did Frances Tarbush find the crystal trident, Lilith?” Jordan asked. “It’s not like she’s someone with an archeological degree like my uncle or that creep Crowley.”

Lilith cradled her hands across her stomach. “It was a matter of like attracting like, Jordan Jensen. Like Amanda, Frances Tarbush was attuned to the crystal trident’s unique sound vibration, like when you hear ringing in your ears, and followed the sound to the hidden compartment in the top of the arch.”

Jordan’s mouth twitched. “You mean the crystal trident acted like a cell phone and used a special ring tone to call her?”

“That is exactly what I mean, Jordan Jensen. Well done!” Lilith clapped.

Suddenly, Melody groaned. “Well that’s bloody great. I’m related to an axe wielding criminal.” Her shoulders slumped.

“Florence Whitney and Frances Tarbush are more heroes than criminals, Melody Spencer,” Lilith said defensively. “They did what they needed to do in order to protect the code of time and maintain the delicate balance between the past and future. Max Tarbush threatened to expose this because of his greedy, cruel nature.”

“If being a Timekeeper was such a big deal for Frances and Florence,” Amanda asked, “then why was the Arch of Atlantis buried and forgotten in Melody’s backyard?”

Lilith sighed deeply as she moved closer to them. “Since both women were childless, there was no one left to take over the job of Timekeeper. Thirteen years after Frances Tarbush’s death, Florence Whitney, now too old to be a Timekeeper herself, decided to bury the arch to protect it against those like Max Tarbush, who would use it for purely unscrupulous reasons.” Lilith smiled. “However, I believe Florence Whitney trusted her instincts enough to know that whoever found the Arch of Atlantis would be worthy to take over the job of Timekeeper. I see she was correct.”

Drake snorted. “Her instincts might have been bang on, Lilith, but those riddles she wrote are totally whacked. Why would Aunt Flo write something about a plowman’s daughter needing protection from a wild arrow, under the date May fourth, 1429?”

“The Scribe must write in riddles to protect the secrets of time, Drake Bailey. When Florence Whitney traveled back through time to May fourth, 1429, she knew that the clues presented in the riddle would help her make the right decisions and take the right actions to prevent history from changing.”

“So what’d the clues tell Aunt Flo to do?” Treena asked.

“Florence Whitney needed to save Joan of Arc, the plowman’s daughter, from being killed in Orleans. It was not her destiny to die at the hands of an insane archer whose mind had been poisoned by Belial’s influence. History has recorded her fate differently, so it was Florence Whitney’s job to protect the sparrow—a term of endearment given to Joan by the peasants.”

Ravi’s face puckered. “How are we supposed to know all that historical junk?”

“Yeah,” Drake added. “There are no satellites floating around in the past, so we can’t even use our cell phones to access the net and check the facts.”

Treena’s jaw dropped. “Whoa! No cell phones? No texting? How will we cope?”

Lilith smiled. “You all must make good use of your talents. Everything you need will be revealed in a timely fashion. Know this, trust in this.”

“But, Lilith, you haven’t told us how we’re going to fight this Belial,” Melody argued. “Or even how we’ll get back to the present. I know as much about being a Timekeeper as I do about brain surgery.”

“Have faith, Melody Spencer. Belial is like a wild animal behind iron bars. No harm will come to you if you just observe evil from a distance and never open the cage. The first rule as a Timekeeper is to
pay attention
, and then use the necessary
action
for the best results. You will know your Timekeeper mission is completed when the layer of time that surrounds all of you is lifted, and you find yourselves standing in front of the Arch of Atlantis. When this happens, the crystal trident must be put back into the keystone so the whirling rainbow may take you home. A word of caution—
never
take off your Babel necklaces. This is how the Arch of Atlantis locates and summons you.”

“Summons us? How does it do that?” Treena asked.

“The blue stone will start to glow, then gently vibrate,” Lilith explained. “So make sure it is worn next to your skin, Treena Mui.”

Drake laughed. “Sounds like some kind of funky pager to me!”

Suddenly, the hairs on Amanda’s neck and head tingled as if an electrical current was running through her. She shuddered. “OMG! Incoming message!” Amanda opened the Timekeepers’ log and immediately jotted down whatever words popped into her mind.

“What’s up with Sault?” Jordan asked, sliding away from Amanda.

“Time has summoned the Scribe,” Lilith replied. “It means the Timekeepers are needed.”

The flow of words felt so natural to Amanda, like she was born to do this. Visions started pouring into her mind—knights on horseback, tents with colorful banners, a dark green forest, flying arrows—all bombarding her like a movie shown in fast forward. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the tingling ceased and Amanda stopped writing. She shuddered again, as the prickly sensation left her body.

“What’d you write, Amanda?” Treena asked.

Amanda glanced down into the log. She frowned.

Jordan bowed before her. “Care to share, oh mighty Scribe?”

Amanda gave Jensen a proper scowl. “Okay, but don’t blame me if you’re too much of a sports-goon to understand the secret code, Jockstrap.” She cleared her throat to recite, “
May first, 1214—Games and songs and revelry, act as the cloak of devilry. So that an English legend may give to the poor, we must travel to Nottingham to even the score.
”

Drake puffed his cheeks out like they were filled with a packet of pop rock candy. “Am I missing something or is that stupid riddle just as confusing to everyone else?”