Silver Knight

  “You ‘ave been very troubled lately.” I imagine she always started with that line.

  “Yes.”

  “You are not sleeping vell.” That was certainly a no-brainer. If you’re troubled, you don’t sleep well.

  “You think you vill find answers on Third Street, but that is not for you during this life.” What? I had not told anyone about my desire to go to Third Street…had not even been there yet.

  “What do you mean by ‘this life’ exactly?” I asked, focusing on the last bit.

  “You ‘ave a very old soul,” she looked over the crystal ball at me smiling mysteriously. “You ‘ave been born, lived, and died many, many times.”

  Before I could really take that in, she added, “It is from those other times that you are experiencing disturbance. You vere not meant to remember during this life, but your suffering from those lives is bleeding through to your consciousness.”

  All right. “Supposing I believe that, what do you recommend?”

  “You are searching for a man with dark hair and dark eyes. You must stop.”

  “How can you possibly know that?” Absolutely no one knew about the nameless man that I occasionally saw in my dreams.

  “Madam Rosa sees all,” she rubbed the crystal ball and caused it to flicker faster. I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead as she added, “Even vhat you think hidden. This life vas meant for you to rest from the struggle. You must not try to find him.”

  “Will I ever find him?” I wondered aloud slightly wistful.

  “Yes, you vill meet again. Your destiny is tied to his as surely as the earth is tied to the sun.”

  “Do you know when?”

  “Absolutes are difficult. The future is like many intricate spider vebs all interconnected. You decide to take one strand, and you vill get stuck at one destination. But if you take another, then you end at different destination. He too must make choices as to vhich direction to go. Vhen and vhere you vill connect, that is tricky. I see him vith you once again vhen you are younger than you are now. So it von’t be this life or the next, perhaps the one after. Besides, you do not have much time left in this life.”

  “What?!”

  “I am sorry child to give you such news, but rest easy, you vill be born again. That is a certainty.”

  “What do you think is going to happen to me?” My heart had accelerated in my chest frantically. I was more upset than I should be. I tried to remember I didn't truly believe this; I just came to satisfy Mother. Madam Rosa must be—is—a charlatan.

  “It vill be an accident. You vill not be able to prevent your fate even if you cowered vithin your bedroom.” How could she possibly know that I’d been thinking of just hiding in my room? I do not believe any of this!

  “Do you give all your visitors such bad news?”

  “I only give vhat news there is. If you vant to enjoy the time you ‘ave left, you must stop looking for the man. Your dreams vill stop vhen you do. You vill be able to rest then.”

  “All right. Well, thank you for your time Madam Rosa,” I stood up to leave, placing several small bills on my side of the table before turning to the curtain.

  That visit motivated me to start learning all I could about mind reading, fortune telling, and reincarnation. How had she known about him? So did I stop thinking about him? How? He was nameless and often shadowy in my dreams. And really, I didn’t want to stop, longing for those few times when the dream fog would clear, and I would see him again, most often on a black horse, sitting there smiling at me. Perhaps I would find him on Third Street….

  “Daddy, I would like to buy a house,” I announced one morning several months later at the breakfast table. I had set aside my new book ExtraSensory Perception by J.B. Rhine and was sitting with my elbows on the table, my fingers interlaced with my chin resting on my knuckles staring at my father. He was reading and was never keen on putting down the paper.

  In the mornings, as Mother always ate off a tray in her room, it was a family tradition that we read at the breakfast table. Daddy didn’t want to hear childish prattle early in the day. So I learned early about the financial world and the hard-hit economy. Trying to find other things to focus on, I had discovered psychics thanks to Madam Rosa. That was one reason I enjoyed such fare about ESP. Why Duke University had even created a lab in 1930 to study such abilities and parapsychology! I found it all fascinating.

  “Humpf, what have you got in mind, my dear?” Daddy was a gruff, old teddy bear of a man with reddish-blonde hair and a big thick mustache. He would bluster and fuss sometimes, but like any storm, he’d blow himself out if you just waited long enough.

  Property was a good investment, and he’d had me investing money in the stock market since 1922 when I’d turned 10. I’d loved to drink Coca-Cola, so he’d let me buy a few shares. I knew that he really wouldn’t have a problem with me buying a house. And really, why did I want a house? I couldn’t give any reasonable answer. I didn’t want to move away from my parents. I wasn’t getting married or even planning on it. Of course, Mother really wanted me to marry. She kept introducing me to nice young men, one after another. But I just wasn’t interested, instead picturing black hair and dark brooding eyes, with none of the men who came to our house, or attended the same parties, meeting that description.

  “Well, there’s a very attractive brownstone for sale on Third Street. It’s in the Park Slope neighborhood in Brooklyn.” For some reason, the street had been on my mind one morning, and I couldn’t get it out of my head. So after a few weeks, and the visit to Madam Rosa, I’d had Tellus, our chauffeur, drive me up and down it in our tan 1934 Lincoln Dietrich Convertible.

  The tree-lined lane contained houses which had little postage stamp sized gardens with riotous flowers bobbing their heads in the breeze out front. It had been a perfect spring day with the sunlight streaming through the new leaves. Filled with brownstones and several really immaculate older mansions, it was a lovely little neighborhood. The street ended right at Prospect Park, which also contained a relatively new zoo. The Prospect Park Zoo had opened on July 3, 1935—just the year before. I must have one of these houses, I’d thought.

  “Do you and your Mother have news for me?” he asked, putting down the New York Times to give me his full attention. I knew he would think something was up. Fortunately for me, he wasn’t as enthusiastic about the idea of me getting married.

  “No, Daddy, I just thought it would be a good investment.” I presented my most innocent expression, widening my blue eyes and smiling prettily. He had a soft heart, besides it was my money when all was said and done. He knew I was looking for his opinion, not his permission.

  “I think you are right that it would make a good investment, and if you’ve already found one to buy, then I would say to get on the horn to Crowley and close the deal.” Mr. Crowley was Daddy’s lawyer and by default mine as well.

  “Will do, Daddy dear.” There were no snags during the purchase, and before I knew it, I was the proud owner of a house located in Park Slope. And that’s when things got tricky. I had taken my readings to heart and wanted to have the house available to me in any of my future reincarnated lives. So, how to set that one up?

  With Mr. Crowley’s help, it was decided that a foundation would own the house. Mr. Crowley actually thought of the organization’s name: Foundation for Light. Everyone connected to my parents had heard of my nightmares and paralyzing fear of the dark, and he wanted it to be something positive sounding. The law firm would oversee the finances through the years in perpetuity with the instructions that anyone named Diana that turned up unsolicited was to have access to the house and money, after meeting certain criteria that is.

  The foundation would be funded by a trust that would receive money from investments in the stock market. One of the staples of the fund would be Coca-Cola—still my favorite drink. It had been created in the late 1800s by John Pemberton and achieved commercial success with Asa Griggs Candler. So far in the 1930s
, it had always made a profit, in large part because the company did not need many employees to create the cola syrup. Another stock chosen was Parker Brothers. Again, as a child, my father had let me buy stock shares based upon what I liked. They are the ones that had published my favorite card game of Rook. In 1935, Parker Brothers had also released a new game that was incredibly popular called Monopoly.

  Next, Mr. Crowley helped me hire a caretaker, George Trelawyn. George was in his forties and had been a butler in England for some high muckity muck. But he had fallen in love with an American who happened to be Mr. Crowley’s niece, Alice. So George and Alice moved into the house on Third Street to maintain it for me.

  Even though I tried my best to ignore Madam Rosa’s prediction, I had to admit I did try to make the most of my time. Her idea of making the most of it and mine just ended up being different. Stop seeing my mystery man in my dreams? Nonsense! I had never tried to dream about him. I did, however, think about him and imagine meeting him on Third Street some day. To prepare, I prepared the house. With George and Alice, I very carefully chose paint, wallpaper and furnishings as if it were the house that I’d live in for the rest of my life—which, in fact, it was. I just didn’t have an unusually long life to live this time around apparently.

  I had only been in the house a couple of months when May 6th rolled around. That was the day the Hindenburg was due to arrive in New York from Germany on its first transatlantic flight for 1937. The giant zeppelin offered quite a luxurious flight for its 1,300 passengers that included such amenities as a cocktail lounge, a library, and a sitting room that even contained a grand piano. My father’s business associate, Mr. Alberto Rossi, was arriving on it with his family. With so much unrest in Europe due to Hitler’s aggression, they were relocating to the United States at my father’s urging. Daddy had us all on hand to welcome them to America when the airship burst into flames above us…

  4 The Light House

  The Present

  I think this was the second time I had been to Third Street since buying the house. In answer to my knock, a man in his early 70’s, tall and still straight, wearing a black suit, opened the door. He had a pleasant expression on a kindly face, a face that was older but still recognizable.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Jarvis? It’s Diana.” I told him with a grin. I knew he wouldn’t recognize me. My hair was different, my eyes, my build, everything.

  “Diana! How wonderful.” His eyes took in my biker boots buckled around the calves with jeans tucked in and backpack slung over one shoulder. I looked nothing like the stylish, sophisticated young woman who had hired him just over 50 years earlier.

  I’d dreamed about the Light House and gone to see if it was still standing. It was, but George Trelawyn had passed away just a month earlier from a heart attack, and Jarvis had been an accidental, if perfect, find to replace him.

  * * * *

  1959 CE

  He’d been in the bar of my hotel idly playing the piano on the second evening of my arrival in New York when I first saw him. A woman asked him to play Bobby Darin’s tune Mack the Knife, which was number one on the charts. The problem—he’d refused to play it again as she’d already requested it four times. The bartender got so angry over his refusal to play the request that he fired the piano man on the spot. I watched the scene, admiring the young man’s calm demeanor as he left, and then headed to the dining room for an evening meal.

  After dinner, I went out to the Playhouse Theater on Broadway where Gypsy was playing starring Ethel Merman. It was a musical comedy tale about a vaudeville entertainer who turned stripper, which had just begun that year. It sounded delightful and was thoroughly entertaining. So I was relaxed, not expecting to cross the trail of a demon at all when leaving the theater.

  Everyone took the subway in New York at some point, and that was my night to take it. It was down in the subway station that I smelled it—that choking, clogging stench was unmistakable. It seemed strongest right by the Men’s Room door.

  I didn’t feel comfortable just barging in, so I kind of hung around waiting for a few minutes. Sure enough, a man eventually approached to enter. And who should it be? It was the piano player from the hotel bar. He looked at me, and I could tell he recognized me but couldn’t quite be sure from where. When he opened the door, I’m sure he thought I was a nut as I tried to see around him into the room. But the door swung shut before I could get a really good look. The smell, however, confirmed that a demon was in there.

  So, should I go on in? I wondered, putting my hand on the gun in my purse. I dithered for a good, solid minute before opening the door. The room opened up a bit behind the door, and there the demon was, clutching at the man! I fired directly into the demon’s back hoping that no one heard the report of the pistol and knowing that the bullet would not have enough velocity to travel through it and harm the man. The man’s eyes had rolled back into his head, and when the demon burst into a cloud of smoke, the man dropped to the floor nearly unconscious, his limbs loose and floppy, ending with his legs splayed out. I went over to kneel by him, patting his face gently. He did not look like he was bleeding anywhere, and I surmised that he was probably just bruised. He slowly opened his eyes to stare blankly at me.

  “Hey, buddy, we have to get out of here. Come on now,” I said tugging at his arm trying to get him to sit up and then stand. “Let’s go.”

  “What was that thing? Where did it go?” he asked, looking around wildly.

  “Don’t worry. It’s gone now,” pat, pat, pat on the shoulder. “Now, let’s go before another one comes along.” That got him on his feet in a hurry. I kept my hand on his arm while we walked slowly on the subway station platform.

  “Is there a bar close by that we could go sit in and talk? I think you need a drink.” I didn’t want to leave him alone after he’d just been attacked. He seemed like he might be in shock.

  “Sure, I just came from a place,” he said and made a stumbling way up the stairs with my help. We exited the subway station into the night air to be greeted by the incredibly noisy New York atmosphere. The traffic sounds, horns, tires screeching, the yelling of the drivers, music and sirens. The cacophony was unbelievable, but to a little country girl from the state of Oregon to see and hear the city that never sleeps was remarkable—at least for a visit.

  Fortunately, the bar was quite close to the subway station entrance. It was set up with cozy tables under dim ambient lighting, and at the far end, a piano could be seen through the smoky haze.

  “Did you get a job here?” I asked him. When he looked at me quizzically, I added, “I saw you get fired earlier today at the hotel.”

  “Oh,” he said, understanding finally lighting his eyes at my familiarity. “No, I’d met a friend here.”

  “My name’s Diana. What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Oh sorry, I should have introduced myself sooner. I’m Jarvis,” he said. The waitress came around and asked what we wanted. I got my favorite Coca-Cola, and he got a Jack Daniels straight up. His hand was still shaking when the waitress brought us the drinks. He knocked his back in one shot, so I waved at the girl and gestured for another round. The alcohol did seem to steady him a bit.

  “Now, what was that thing?” he asked.

  “It was a demon,” I responded quietly, holding my glass with both hands and looking into the drink.

  “Demon? Like a demon from hell?” he asked incredulously and just a little too loudly. I looked around nervously.

  “Well, I don’t know about hell, but I do know it was a demon. I’ve killed one other before, so I’m sure.”

  “You’ve killed more than one?”

  “Yes—well now I have.”

  “Where did it go? Back to hell?” he wanted to know just a little hysterically still.

  “It went back to the Dark,” I replied calmly. “Which I guess we would call hell.”

  “Please just explain this a little more clearly.” He was rubbing his fing
ertips on his temples.

  “Okay, look, it just sounds kookie out loud. I’ve even pretended to tell people just to see how it would sound, and it never gets any better. All I know is that demons really do exist, and when I come across them, I’m supposed to kill them.” I hesitated, “I’m a warrior for the Light.”

  “You’re a warrior? For light?”

  “Yes. There’s this struggle between the Dark and the Light—the Dark has its warriors, and the Light has its own. The demons suck the soul and blood out of people in an attempt to put an end to the Light. It’s my duty to stop them. Lots of times I am successful, but there is a price…usually I die. Then I am reborn and continue the fight.” As I finished, he looked at me, frowning slightly.

  “You’re right. That does sound kookie. So you’re a warrior who gets reborn? How do you know that?”

  “Because I dream about my previous lives. I am always called Diana, and I learn about demons. I learn how to kill them through those dreams.”

  “So if you’d died tonight, you think you would have been reborn?” he asked with just a little skepticism.

  “Definitely. I am always reborn on the Summer Solstice.”

  “You mean June twenty-first?”

  “Well, that’s what it’s called now. But the Gregorian calendar has only been around since about 1582. It replaced the Julian calendar that was created about 45 BC by Julius Caesar, which was also a modification on yet another calendar. So you see no matter what the calendar date actually is, I know that I was born on the longest day of the year.”

  “Wow. And I thought my life was mad.” We both burst out laughing at his comment, tension finally leaving us.

  “It’s not awful really,” I told him still chuckling.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Portland.”

  “Did you come to New York to kill demons?”

  “No, I came because there is a house here that I set up in my last life. I wanted to see it. But unfortunately, the caretaker has died, so I have to find a replacement.”