Hieronymus Jones and the Lemurian Concern.: Hieronymus Jones, #2

By Michael Palmer-Cryle

Hieronymus Jones and Gertrude Green, embark on their greatest adventure... since the last one.

What do those glyphs carved into millennia old rock mean? What is the

 ancient mystery the island protects? Why must the hideous slime covered, viciously mutated, uproariously evil, tentacle covered monsters be sooooo obnoxious?

Hiero and Gerty have always kept a part of themselves hidden, afraid the truth would drive others away but in a sea of secrets, can their most unusual friendship survive the things they dare not reveal?

 Hiero and Gerty will seek the answers to these questions and will also ask the most difficult question of all... Are we really just friends?

Return to a world of wild magic, hidden creatures and high technology. Return to a world where not everyone is what they appear to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sleepy Goblin Press
• Release date: Jul 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9780648422464

Michael Palmer-Cryle

Michael Palmer-Cryle began writing at an early age and his first illustrated children's book, "the Punk Puss" was published in the pages of his hometown newspaper when he was ten years of age. it was dreadful and embarrasses him deeply to this day, you will never be allowed to see it... ever. with the mortification of that event behind him, he now focuses on young adult fantasy fiction, as well as illustrated children's books. His debut novel 'Hieronymus Jones and the teacup squid' is available now and book two will be released soon. Michael is an independent (indie) author, publishing under the imprint of Sleepy Goblin Press. Michael lives in Brisbane, Australia with his partner and two cats

Book preview

Chapter One.

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There was a chill in the air, unusual for this time of year, but not unheard of. The sun shone brightly, though Max Kemp did lament the fact, that he could no longer fasten the buttons of his jacket, to guard against the cold. Max chuckled to himself as he slapped his expanding waistline, the cause of his jacket button dilemma. He blamed his wife’s cooking, for surely that woman could prepare the finest pot roast on the planet. Max regretted nothing.

As he walked to work, he tripped and stumbled for a moment on an uneven cobblestone, caught his balance, and continued on his way. The City Council really ought to do something about those roughly hewn cobblestones, he thought to himself. Max passed a student in the street, a feeble-looking young child, responsible for ringing the school bell. Max’s mind filled with memories of the recent business at the school, something to do with the pool. Structural damage? Not to worry, nobody was hurt, though it certainly caused a stir, among some of the older families on the island. Max crossed the sluggish stream that ran through the center of town via a tiny and deeply adorable bridge. He looked over the railing, sometimes there were fish swimming, but not today. No matter, his destination was just ahead, the island’s only bank. His Bank.

The Kemps had run the small bank for generations, his father before him and his father’s mother before that. Banking was in the blood of the Kemp family. As children, the Kemps never ever wanted to be firemen or astronauts or even angora goat herders (it’s a thing,) they only ever wanted to be bankers. Max was the manager of his bank, this was his world and he was its ruler, he was a benevolent one.

Times were tough for many on the island, Max Kemp always understood and always helped in any way that he could. Many was the time that Max would forget to chase up a late loan repayment, simply because his customers needed a little longer to pay. His customers were highly valued to him, they were his friends. As Max leaned back in his large faux leather chair, sipping his morning coffee, he stared out the window of his office. He watched his fellow islanders as they passed by on the street outside, he waved to those that caught his eye and they waved back. Then the car pulled up, that car.

The car was large and white and took up three parking places, one of them a disabled park. It didn’t need to, of course, it was no bigger than any other car in the street, though it was much, much more expensive. That car belonged to Mayor Ballantyne. Max involuntarily curled his lip, ever so slightly.

Pay attention in here Lucas, there is much I would have you learn. Mayor Kenneth Ballantyne said to his son with a slight nod.

About banking? The odious Lucas replied incredulously. Mayor Ballantyne chuckled.

There is more to a bank than coins and notes, young man. Lucas nodded, he didn’t really understand but was willing to learn. Lucas idolized his father even though his father was blonde.

Mayor Ballantyne exited the back seat of his expensive white car, after his son, who held the door open for him. Somebody should always open the door for you if you are important, one of Mayor Ballantyne’s life rules. As the pair stood on the street, several pedestrians were momentarily blinded by all the blonde. Father and son marched confidently toward the bank’s entrance, each adjusting their hair as they went. Mayor Ballantyne got to the door first and waited for it to be opened.

Ahem. Mayor Ballantyne cleared his throat to get his son’s attention, Lucas’s attention was directed at something else. A small symbol carved into the cornerstone of the bank’s foundation. Lucas regarded the symbol, then decided he didn’t care, turning his attention back to his waiting father.

Ah yes, Lucas spoke as if he had forgotten something he didn’t care about. His father smiled and put his hand on his son’s shoulder. Mayor Ballantyne was proud that his son had not apologized for making him wait. You never apologize, especially if you are at fault, it’s a sign of weakness.

The preternaturally blonde father and son, strode past the customers of the bank, smiling widely at each. Again Mayor Ballantyne was proud of his son as he greeted each customer and employee by name. Neither Ballantyne cared about any of these people, but there was an election coming up, and Lucas’s efforts to secure his father’s mayorship, for another term, did not go unnoticed. Max Kemp’s secretary made an attempt to halt the Ballantyne’s uninvited advance into Max’s office. She was met with handshakes from each of the Ballantyne’s, who also offered her thanks for her support in the upcoming election. She had not remembered giving them any support, but she accepted their thanks anyway as the door to Max’s office closed in her face.

Maxwell, you look… well. Mayor Ballantyne greeted the portly bank manager warmly… sort of.

Good morning Kenneth, I hope my secretary didn’t give you any trouble, only, people usually make an appointment when they visit. At any rate, what can I do for you today? Max was slightly offended by the mayor’s brash entrance into his office, HIS office. Max was slightly annoyed and the slight annoyance in Max’s voice was not overlooked by the Ballantyne’s. Neither was the fact that Max had referred to Mayor Ballantyne by his first name. Mayor Ballantyne’s smile had left him.

Good morning Mr. Kemp sir. I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of meeting you before today, my name is Lucas sir, Lucas Ballantyne. Lucas smiled warmly as if he were in awe of the bank manager, he offered his hand.

What a fine upstanding young man, Lucas was it? A pleasure son. Max leaned forward in his seat and offered his own hand, which Lucas accepted and the two shared a handshake. Lucas smiled warmly, then not so warmly.

Lucas placed the rolled-up piece of paper he was holding on Max’s desk, never breaking eye contact with the now, slightly concerned, bank manager. Lucas gripped Max’s hand tightly, very tightly, Max winced. Lucas wrenched the manager’s hand toward him, dragging Max to his feet. Lucas squeezed harder and Max let out a small pained noise.

Oh dear, did I hurt you? Not my intention at all. I play a lot of sports at school you see, don’t know my own strength. Lucas laughed softly, he was still gripping Max’s hand. I only wanted to help you to your feet, obviously a gentleman like yourself, knows that it is proper to stand when in the presence of your mayor? Max was now more than a little concerned. Speaking of school, I am in the same class as your son, Max Jr. I know what you’re thinking, that he is weaker than most of the kids at school, a prime target for bullies, but please don’t worry. I will keep a special eye on him. Lucas smiled, like a pit viper. Max chuckled nervously.

A, a fine son you have here… MAYOR Ballantyne. You must be very proud. Max dipped his head, Lucas released his hand, and stood behind his father, still smiling, staring at Max.

Very proud indeed Maxwell. That was the truth, even Mayor Ballantyne was surprised by the initiative, his son had just shown. Now to business. Mayor Ballantyne’s campaign smile had returned to him and he was eager to get the information he was here for. There is a certain plot of land I need, ahem, wish to acquire. It’s in the interior of the island and the owner is a complete mystery to me. The bank holds copies of all the deeds, titles, and what have you, so I need a name. Mayor Ballantyne’s smile was bulletproof.

Kenne… Mayor Ballantyne, that information would be confidential, I couldn’t possibly… Max’s voice trailed off as Lucas took a step forward and stopped smiling. However since it’s for the mayor’s office I would be happy to help. This was no longer Max’s world. Where is the property you are interested in? Max was ashamed of himself, but in this situation what could he do? Lucas stepped forward again, he had his hands raised, palms outstretched and head dipped, showing Max he had nothing to fear from his approach.

Lucas unfurled the rolled-up paper, he had earlier placed on Max’s desk, a map of the island.

Right here. Mayor Ballantyne pointed to a large plot of land at the center of the island. No buildings, nothing but forest. Max sat back down in his chair.

Unison Holdings. was all Max said.

Yes, I know the name of the company, who owns it? I have been sifting through shell corporations for weeks now. Mayor Ballantyne had let his desperation slip.

The only name on all of the titles owned by Unison Holdings is ’Josh Emery.’ I don’t know if he is the owner of the company or just a name on the forms, but that is all I know. Mayor Ballantyne nodded, lost in thought at what Max had told him.

Very well, thank you for your time, Maxwell, It’s much appreciated. All smiles and compliments now. One more thing. Max sat forward in his chair again, he wondered if he should get up. He did get up, which raised a smile from Mayor Ballantyne as he continued to speak. You said Josh Emery was the name on ALL the titles, how much land do they own?

Most of it, Max said simply. They began buying land up a few years ago, they currently own all of the undeveloped land on the Island and quite a few residential and business properties too. Mayor Ballantyne was quite surprised.

"My interests and I own more land than any other party on this island, how does Unison Holdings own ‘most of it?’ Mayor Ballantyne asked less than politely.

The properties owned by your family, the Delacore’s and the Abernathy’s, etc are certainly still owned by you and your… associates, but they do make up a small amount of the land on the island, even though that land is by far the most valuable and desirable. Unison Holdings owns roughly seventy percent or so of the Island. The land gets bought up by seemingly random third parties, but when the titles are signed, it’s always the same name. Josh Emery, Unison Holdings. Max enjoyed the fact that he had this information when the great Mayor Ballantyne did not.

Good day Maxwell. The Ballantyne’s smiled and left Max’s office. Max exhaled loudly closing his eyes as he did, grateful that the ordeal was over. Max opened his eyes and was looking straight into the face of Lucas who had re-entered the office.

Forgot my map, Lucas said with the same pit viper smile. Max chuckled nervously as Lucas left and joined his father outside. Father, who is Josh Emery? Lucas asked.

I have no idea, but I will find out, they have exactly what I need. Mayor Ballantyne always got what he wanted, and he wanted what was on that land very, very badly.

Chapter Two.

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Hieronymus Jones lay on his bed, the sun was down and the hour was late. Hiero thought back to the first day he had met her, Gertrude Green. He firmly believed that day was a defining time in his life. So many things had begun to change for him when he met Gerty. Sure they had been attacked by mutant cephalopod sea monsters a bunch of times since and had nearly died on many separate occasions, still, it was an amazing time. Hiero had made his first friend in the fifteen and a half years since his birth. And she was… Spectacular.

In the months since the attack at the school pool and the defeat of the Beast at the riverside, life had become significantly less hectic. Less hectic, but much more interesting, because of her. They had seen each other every day since the riverbank, missing only three. At school, they shared their lunches, high above everything in the bell tower, tucked away from the rest of the world. After school and on weekends, they would spend hours in the library. Hiero’s library, the subterranean complex where he housed the many strange, unusual, and downright disturbing objects he had collected. Those items came from species and cultures that were often magical and sometimes dangerous. Many had become extinct, entire races of people lost to the ages, but there were still a few races left. Hidden, living beside and beneath humanity, relegated to the stuff of legend and myth. Of the remaining species, one was a particular cause for concern. At the top of Hiero’s list of ‘Things that will probably kill me,’ was the Squee Sh’eer. The species the Beast from the riverbank belonged to, the species the Emperor belonged to.

Hiero picked up the page from a lost and ancient book, the page that had been crumpled into Gerty’s front pocket as they ran for their lives. The page that had a translation scrawled across it in bright purple ink.

Beware the Emperor of the drowned, slumbering in the black. For his awakening marks the end of the surface world and all those that dwell within the light.

Even months later, that purple ink was of the utmost concern to Hiero. The ink came from a pen that was exactly the same as the one Gerty used. Hiero had bought several of those purple pens, he had confirmed the ink was a match. It did not necessarily mean she had written the translation, it was a common enough brand of pen, but the coincidence was concerning. She was such an unusual girl, there was something about her. Her physical abilities were certainly impressive, incredibly so, but that wasn’t it. The way her mind worked was impressive as well, a depth of intelligence and a thirst for knowledge that was extremely uncommon. When they holed up in the library and were not chatting about silly things, she consumed the information the old books had, with a vengeance. Hiero would watch her as she read sometimes, lost in the pages, she wouldn’t notice the way he stared. He would watch until he realized how creepy he was being and that he should knock it off, gentleman that he was. She would look at him sometimes in a way that made the rest of the world melt away. When she touched him, held his hand, or rested her head on his shoulder, he just felt, complete. As if his friend was all he would ever need in his life.

Hiero crumpled up the old page and threw it across the room. It didn’t matter if Gerty had written the translation or not. Even if she had, it was only to help him. If she had secrets? Well, so did he. She would tell him whatever he needed to know, whenever she was ready to tell him. Hiero got up from his bed and retrieved the crumpled-up old page. It was hundreds of years old and contained invaluable information, about something that was probably going to destroy the world, after all. He chuckled at his foolishness as he placed the page on his bedside table and checked the clock that hung on his wall. Finally, it was time to text her.

Hiero removed his phone from his wrist, the empty air above his skin shimmered briefly before turning solid, the invisible device, revealed. He began to type, smiling foolishly as he did. Hitting send, he fell back down into his bed and pulled the covers around him, defense against the cold as he waited.

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Gerty lay on her own bed, the mattress was bare, she huddled under an old blanket that had more holes than fabric. Still, she smiled. Alone in the darkness, shivering in the cold, she smiled. It was nearly time for her nightly text, from her best and only friend. As she waited, she thought about the day that had ended, as had become her habit. She had walked to school with Hiero of course. She had been waiting for him and when he arrived, she hugged him. He had been slightly embarrassed and turned red, but he did that so regularly that she figured, that was just normal for him and that he didn’t mind. Gerty didn’t hug Hiero every day, she didn’t want to seem strange or too needy. However, if she were being honest, she never felt quite right on days when she didn’t get to hug him. He was like a big, Hiero-shaped, blanket and she felt so safe and warm when she was wrapped up in his arms. Gerty giggled to herself as she imagined how bitterly Hiero would complain, about being thought of as a blanket. She briefly scowled as she realized that Hiero was never the one to initiate their hugs, he always hugged her back, but they were always her idea.

Stupid Hiero. Gerty pouted, then giggled at the thought of his extreme formality and superhuman levels of politeness. She was sure that was the reason he never hugged her first. She hoped that was the reason he never hugged her first.

Gerty gasped deeply and nearly passed away from the shock of her phone alerting her to an incoming text. Her wrist was resting on her forehead as the text came in, sending the alerting tingle, directly into her brain. She should probably ask Hiero if she was going to be damaged in some way by this event. She had no particular desire to wake up tomorrow with the ability to taste colors. Hiero’s text read,

Dear Gerty, If you are available, I would greatly enjoy the pleasure of your company at the library tomorrow. There will be crates of ancient texts to explore, which I can almost guarantee, will be a waste of our time. If the thought of that potentially fruitless endeavor does not compel you, there will be small cakes and hot tea. I also promise there will be no killer squid monsters, with the exception of Squidgy, who is still a jerk. I look forward to your reply as ever, sincerely Hieronymus Jones.

Gerty drew her shoulders upward unintentionally, as she smiled and typed her reply.

Dear Hiero, I will be there at the usual time, eagerly anticipating the complete fruitlessness of our endeavors. Also, yay for small cakes and tea. Bye-bye, Gerty.

Tomorrow was Saturday, she would get to spend the whole day with her friend. Away from the cold grey of her ’home.’ Gerty shivered against the cold, her feet hung over the edge of the mattress, which was clearly too small for her. She pulled her knees to her chest, her whole body shuddered and suddenly she was not so cold. Gerty drifted off to sleep, she dreamt of Hiero.

Chapter Three.

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Her long red hair bobbed gently up and down as she walked, the gentle breeze kept it from her eyes and as she walked, she sang. There were no words, just a cheerful, made-up, melody. Gerty was happy. She had been happy for a while now. Her parents still ‘punished’ her, though not as much lately, she knew why, but didn’t want to think about it. She pretended to be a broken little thing when she was at her house, never made eye contact, hunched her shoulders, avoiding their gaze. She knew she would not be able to escape her fate tonight though, tonight was the anniversary. But tonight was not today, she would worry about what would come, later. Today was hers and his.

Gerty turned down the tree-lined driveway that led to Hiero’s home and waved to his parents. Abdo and Sofia were in the front yard attending to repairs, both turned and waved at Gerty’s approach, smiling warmly. Gerty ran over to the pair,

Hello Mrs. and Mr. Eltayeb, hard at work? Gerty asked cheerfully. Abdo was at the top of a ladder that leaned against the front of his home. He sported a very large yellow tool belt that seemed to contain, easily half the stock, one might find in a hardware store. None of the tools appeared to be used. Sofia was at the base of the ladder, her foot was on the lowest rung, for support.

A husband’s work is never done, Gertrude, Abdo exclaimed proudly. It’s the gutter you see, there is clearly something wrong with… this part, it refuses to stay attached to my house and I am beginning to lose patience with it. Abdo was cheerful, if slightly annoyed. Sofia looked at Gerty and both chuckled.

Abdo was not going to be fixing the broken part of the roof guttering, the man was an excellent husband, an amazing father, and a disgraceful handyman. Sofia held her phone in her hand, out of her husband’s sight, the roofing specialist’s number was already on the screen, she was just waiting, respectfully, to hit call.

How are you today hija? Sofia asked as she reached out her hand to touch Gerty’s shoulder. Sophia retracted it just before making contact, raising her fingers skyward instead. This was something of a ritual between the two. Sofia and Abdo noticed early on, that Gerty simply could not bear to be touched by anyone but their son. They did not want to pry into the reason Gerty hated to be touched, confident that their son was on top of the situation, they would leave it in his hands. He would come to them if he needed to. So Sofia would touch the air, above Gerty affectionately, instead of the girl herself. This odd behavior seemed to work well, for all involved.

Very well Mrs. Eltayeb thank you for asking. Are you both well? Gerty asked sincerely.

On top of the world child, with the exception of this guttering, which still refuses to cooperate. Sophia chuckled at Abdo’s words and looked knowingly to Gerty, who joined her in a giggle.

Are you spending another day in the dungeon with Hieronymus, Gertrude? Sofia asked. Sofia and Abdo had taken to referring to the library as the dungeon lately. Presumably, because it was underground with no natural lighting. Not because they believed their son was keeping prisoners down there… presumably.

Yes Mrs. Eltayeb, if that is ok? Sofia smiled at the fact that Gerty had asked if it was ok as if Sofia or Abdo had the power to keep the two friends apart.

Of course Gertrude, enjoy yourselves. Hieronymus is already down there, tinkering or reading or plotting to take over the world, whatever it is, that fifteen-year-old boys do. Sofia joked. Abdo added,

If he is planning on taking over the world, please ask him to do it before lunch, Sophia has made some small cakes and we expect to see you both up here to help me eat them. Abdo was certain that taking over the world was very important and all, but honestly, small cakes must come first. Gerty promised to hurry along any plans for world domination that Hiero may have had, or at the very least, put them on hold for lunch. This seemed to appease Abdo who smiled, nodded, and returned his attention to his guttering.

I think the screw hole may have been stripped Mr. Eltayeb. You could probably insert a plug into the wood, and then attach the guttering to that. Bye now, see you at lunch. Gerty raced out the back to the shed leaving a dejected Abdo staring at a stripped screw hole and wondering what a plug was.

Sofia my love, I believe the time has come to call the professionals, Abdo admitted his defeat. Sofia smiled, helped her husband down the ladder, and hit the call button on her phone.

Gerty made her way into the shed that was nestled at the back of the garden, the old door creaked absurdly upon its opening and again as it was closed. Once inside she opened her eyes wide,

Gertrude Green. The invisible scan searched her face and retinas for anomalies, it found none. The voiceprint verified she was who she claimed to be, and unlocked the first stage security measures. As the floor folded up and out of the way Gerty rubbed her eyes and watched the thin metal plates compress. The metal that faced upward when the door was a floor, was very adequately camouflaged, to resemble a dirt floor covered in broken bits and pieces. She wondered how much effort would need to go into creating, just this perfectly disguised door. Not to mention the impossible level of intelligence required to build the rest of the library. She wondered just how much of his intelligence, Hiero kept hidden. Gerty descended the stairs, two at a time, eager to see her friend.

Hiero had placed the ancient page, with the translation, on the comfy couch. He put it there, so it would be within easy reach, not because he wanted the page to be comfy, it was just a page. He smiled as he looked at the purple-inked translation. It had caused him such concern, wondering if this was the work of his friend and if it was her, how did she do it? But now he had realized, it just didn’t matter. Hiero heard the outer door to the library opening, his phone buzzed with an automated alert confirming this. He walked over to the cement wall and waited, on the other side, was the staircase that led up and out. On the other side was Gerty.

Hiero watched as the magic was deactivated by his friend and thought that it had been far too long since he last saw her, nearly fourteen hours. The cement wall peeled away and Gerty stood before him. She was surprised that he was suddenly standing so close, he must have had his nose pressed right up against the cement on his side. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, as Hiero leaned forward and hugged her. Her arms were by her side trapped by his and he had lifted her very slightly off the ground. He whispered,

I missed you, Gerty. He put her down and took a small step back, suddenly embarrassed by his actions. I do apologize, that was terribly impolite. Hiero dipped his head as he spoke. Gerty’s mouth was literally hanging open.

Hiero briefly wondered if his hug was acceptable behavior, but then reasoned that she hugged him quite often, not every day, but most. He admitted to himself that on days that she didn’t hug him, he felt, just a little bit, empty. She stepped forward without saying anything and put her forehead against his chest, her hands were still by her side and there were tears in her eyes.

I knew it, Gerty spoke very