Prologue

On a sacred altar where lies have been told, many have come to see horrors sold: Though one will tell of a better tomorrow, The end will come with a burning sorrow.  -- Nostradamus 1564.

 I am the instrument appointed to uncurtain this ancient mystery. -- Mark Twain: "A Strange Dream" 1866.

From:

Professor Jordan, Occult Investigator,  1862

Subject:

Code Name: Beyond the Blue and the Gray

 I am proud to report that I have expanded our effort to unveil charlatans employing mysticism, carnival tricks, and séances to take advantage of vulnerable citizens to focus on crimes against those who have loved ones in the line of battle, my attention has been drawn to a potentially dangerous area.

Recently I received a package, anonymously, of course, containing a book of the 16th Century Prophecies of Nostradamus. While the sender remains anonymous, the sender's intent seems clear: to portend some mystical development to challenge the Department to stop some monstrous event from happening.

These badly rhymed quatrains are written in French with a dash of Italian, Greek, and Latin; and they have been and continue to be interpreted to predict events to and beyond the millennium. Historically the writings of Nostradamus (Michel de Notre dame) are supposed to have predicted the death of popes, the rise of tyrants, and the occurrence of natural disasters; but his quatrains are sufficiently obscure to predict any occurrence to any people, famous or not.

While I shall try to prevent this unknown person from reaching his goals, exactly which of the warnings contained in Nostradamus's 492 quatrains are to be heeded today I can not say. Nevertheless, it remains frightening that the destinies of our citizens may be teetering on 16th Century poetry that can be interpreted to support conflicting, not to say contradictory, conclusions.

The only present departmental connection to the mystery implied here concerns a young lady named Jancy Hall, who performs with a stage magician named Tonio de Aldo, whose ancestry reportedly contains the unlikely mixture of Italian and American Indian blood. Miss Hall came to my attention through reports of her "Gift of Seeing," a claimed ability to see what has happened miles away--specifically in the Hall woman's case, on current battlefields.

Some currency manipulation (notably gold) appears to be linked with the Hall woman's predictions and prophecies. To advance the investigation, I have hired a young man who is conversant with Jancy Hall's background. He claims she is linked romantically to the magician de Aldo. My expectation is that this woman's relationship with the illusionist may be the twist of fate needed to uncork the bottled warnings of Nostradamus that have surfaced in our sea of the occult.

Chapter 60: A Beautiful Girl Named Jancy

As our story continues....

The divine word will be struck from the sky,

One who cannot proceed any further:

The secret closed with the revealer,

Such that they will march over and ahead.

NostradamusCentury II #27

Chester was eager to return to Jancy, but when he got there, it was all gloom, with the nurse fending off tears and Louis shaking his head sadly as the doctor put his instruments away.

On the lanai, Jancy had been propped up to observe the moon shining on the ocean. She was gowned in a long, lacy, white tunic, afloat in the middle of a red flood of ruby poinsettia plants. On seeing Chester, she smiled and turned her head on the pillow so that he could put his head beside hers.

A short, heavy shower darkened the sky. Outside, the waves broke on the shore, and Jancy said she was imagining herself riding on a horse next to Tonio's.

“And then, Chester, our splashing hooves give way to our legs running in the surf. Then Tonio catches me and holds me in his arms. My hair is green with seaweed, and he pushes it from my face, and he kisses me.”

A strong, wet breeze blew in over the lanai as Jancy turned and patted Chester's hair down, calling up a thousand memories. She knew she was dying and made Chester promise that, after he took care of the Commodore, he would have her buried next to Tonio.

Chester was trying hard not to cry. He couldn't say anything, but he nodded yes.

“Chester, without you, my life would have been so dark and hopeless. Thank you for sharing life with me.”

Chester choked back the tears and managed to mumble. “Jancy, you've been my whole world. If God had to pick one of us to go first, it should have been me.”

“Live for both of us, Chester. Corragio, Chester. Corragio”

She died with her hand on his hair. As her hand fell away, her last words were the same as his. "I love you."

He kissed her forehead, and as he stood up, a soft sea breeze came in with a wailing sound. It rattled her bed. It seemed to pause for a second before it took Jancy away with it.

The next day, after Chester dug up some deep-red poinsettias to put beneath the palms around the Professor's grave, he found himself crying under a tree where he had hung black crepe in Jancy's memory.

On the trunk he carved out "Jancy," and underneath he put "Love, Chester."

He walked along the open fields, not knowing where to go. Then, all of a sudden, he stumbled over some loose chickens that came running by. The way they ran and jumped made him think of Stamps when he was young. He almost had to laugh.

Then the hens and chicks were followed by the pretty young girl. Chester leaped the fence to help her corral her runaway brood. The girl had her hair up in tight curls, the way Jancy used to.

The two chased the chickens until they had them all gathered up. When they got tired, they sat down on a rock and smiled at each other. It was a smile that they would share for years to come, a smile that they shared when she bore him a beautiful baby girl, whom they named Jancy.

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