The Gathering. Carl Read
her?”
“Yes, that was Mrs Phillips, and she didn’t say what she wanted?” Nathanial asked, puzzled.
“No. She just asked me to give you this.”
Renae handed him a piece of parchment. He stared at it and then reached into his pocket to retrieve the parchment from last night, but it wasn’t there. He was flabbergasted.
“This is the parchment from last night,” he said, mystified. “Did she say how this came to be in her possession?”
“Nope,” Renae replied happily. “She simply smiled and said you would understand.”
“I see,” he responded, not at all understanding how it could have come to have been in her possession.
“The shop has tripled its trade in the last twelve months,” Renae continued, not really taking note of his bewildered expression. “And I foresee it becoming much busier. Your idea to increase the range of books and specialise in the esoteric was brilliant. Word finally got around and the university students are coming here in droves,” Renae enthusiastically informed him.
Nathanial’s mind was alerted to Renae’s phraseology in her report. “You made an interesting statement. You said ‘foresee’, not expect. Have you had a vision?”
“It was earlier this month. I was meditating in the shop and foresaw a substantial increase in business and two new faces behind the counter,” confessed Renae.
“That’s good, as I now belong to the unemployed.”
The look on Renae’s face revealed she wasn’t telling him everything, so he insisted on hearing it all.
Her voice wavered slightly as she responded. “I also saw you going on a perilous journey not of your conscious choice,” she replied, her face showing signs of concern. “I was planning on telling you at our regular meeting.”
“Did you receive anything else on how I would manage to accidentally go on this journey and where it would take me?” He needed informative guidance, especially after last night’s perplexing events.
“The vision was unexpected and filled me with dread,” Renae commented, gently touching his arm. “I lost contact and couldn’t reconnect to the spiritual flow. Sorry, Nathanial.”
“That’s all right,” he replied with a sinking sensation coming over him as sat at his desk. A light knock on the door interrupted further conversation. “Enter,” he called.
“Excuse me, Nathanial,” one of the staff apologised as she entered. “There’s a woman downstairs insisting on speaking with you.”
“Thank you, Gela, show her to my office, please.” He stood, moving out from behind the desk as Gela escorted the woman into his office and then quietly left.
“Mrs Phillips, what a pleasure,” he said, smiling. “I would like to formally introduce you to my manager Renae. Renae, this is Mrs Phillips.”
After Renae and Mrs Phillips had exchanged pleasantries, Renae discreetly left.
“That’s a very intuitive young woman you have working for you, Professor.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Did you receive your gift this morning?” she asked.
“Gift? Oh yes, thank you. May I be so bold as to ask how you obtained the parchment?”
“Most certainly, Professor, you are welcome to ask.” Her tone left no doubt in his mind that he wouldn’t receive an answer. “Professor Belmont, have you had the opportunity to become acquainted with the Phillips and the Conway families’ history at all?”
“Please, Mrs Phillips, call me Nathanial,” he instructed indicating for her to be seated at one of the armchairs placed about his office. “Until yesterday I was still working at the university,” he said, sitting in the seat opposite her. “This left me with little spare time. Is it important?”
Mrs Phillips looked directly at him. “You may call me Barbette, Nathanial,” she replied, smiling. “Some things require explanation and you will need an understanding of past historical events to get a clearer picture. I suggest you start with the journals Matthew Phillips and Terence Conway wrote.”
Nathanial looked at Barbette in the manner of ‘continue, please’, but nothing was forthcoming, other than a knowing grin.
“I am wondering if you were the one who originally sent this message,” he queried, presenting Barbette with the parchment Renae had given him.
“I shall return home now,” Barbette stated, rising from her chair. “If you would be so kind as to escort me to the car.” He had learned earlier on that when Mrs Phillips didn’t wish to communicate it was a waste of time in persisting. It was frustrating. He walked Barbette to her car with neither of them saying a word. As they approached, her chauffeur opened her door and she climbed in.
“Thank you, Nathanial. I look forward to hearing from you soon.”
He returned to the shop totally mystified; how did she obtain the parchment? As he entered the shop he caught Renae’s attention, indicating for her to meet him in his office.
“What was that all about?” she said, bemused.
“I don’t know, but I think I need a history lesson. Can you see to it that I’m not disturbed?”
“Of course, no one will bother you. I’ll make certain of it,” she affirmed.
One of the conditions of the purchase of the bookshop from Phillcon Enterprises was the storage of the Phillips and Conway family histories and their personal journals. Nathanial found what he was looking for and started reading; it proved to be quite an eye opener. He was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Enter.”
Renae walked in with some herbal tea and sandwiches. He thanked her and remarked about not being disturbed. She smiled and said that the shop had been closed for an hour. It was time to stop his research. Laughing at his surprise, she placed the tray of food and drinks on a table and sat in one of the armchairs.
“The journals Matthew Phillips and Terence Conway wrote of their experiences in the Woodlands are incredible,” he advised her.
“What do you mean by incredible?” she responded, intrigued.
Walking from behind the desk he joined Renae. While she poured the tea he explained. “Everyone knows about Phillcon Enterprises’ rise to fame. What’s not known is how it was achieved. Both Matthew Phillips and Terence Conway were gifted psychics. Their abilities were fully developed when they entered the Woodlands.”
“I’m not grasping what you mean about developed in the Woodlands?”
“Why do you think it’s forbidden to enter the Woodlands?” Nathanial asked while pointing in that general direction. “Why encircle a forest the size of ten city blocks in a wall that’s eight feet thick at its base, rises twenty feet into the air and curves outwards?”
Renae shrugged. “I don’t think anyone knows the answers to those questions.”
“Then allow me to educate you,” he answered, smiling. “According to Phillips and Conway, the Woodlands contain countless realms of reality, both spiritual and material, which are being manifested into a consciousness of being. The Woodlands is where the Astral Plane interconnects with our world of Telluric. I’ve had my suspicions that they were. These documents are the first testimonials I’ve read that support that belief.”
Renae sat dumbfounded for a moment before she spoke. “Are you telling me the Woodlands is part of the Astral Plane? Nathanial!” Renae was shocked. “The Astral Plane is the ethereal world between all realms of consciousness. It’s where a spirit rests before being reincarnated. It’s not meant to be a physical manifestation of awareness. How could something like that happen?”
“According