Katherine and the Truth About Jack

Chapter 1: Of Course You Know the Guardians

The knock resonated through the large house as the knocker fell upon the door. So many years of this, she was used to the sound. So she stood patiently, arms wrapped around a small bundle of paper.

"Who is it!" A voice sounding off made her jump.

She looked over to the side of the door and saw the tiny speaker that the harsh voice had come out of.

This was new; usually, William just greeted her at the door. She pushed a little red button and spoke into it, "Uh, its Kat—"

"Katherine!" The voice that followed was far kinder.

"Who?" The harsh voice asked.

"Relax Beatrix; she visits me all the time." The voice, she now recognized as William himself made her let out a breath of relief. "I'll be right their Katherine, don't move."

There were a few quiet minutes, where she brushed away some of her brown bangs that had a tendency to get in her face. The sound of familiar footsteps echoed inside before the door swung open. Standing there was William, tall, but not terribly so, and the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Hello! I am so sorry about the radio call, recently installed; believe me when I say it was not my idea." He waved an arm to welcome her into his house.

Katherine knew that he was the kind of person who liked to greet people personally, face to face. He was good like that, friendly. "Why did you get it then?" She couldn't help asking.

"Ehh...It was a compromise, either 24/7 guard duty or a radio. I think I chose the better don't you?" He asked giving her a smile.

She nodded in agreement and continued to follow him into his mansion. Honestly, it wasn't as big as most mansions. He was a simple man, nothing too much to worry him. The Guards were no doubt requested by his son. William was an acclaimed author and director as well as illustrator. And when she told him her story, he didn't doubt her for a second. Which was unusual for an adult, but she did sense a childlike instinct inside of him. That was probably why so many children loved his stories.

Of course his fame bread money, and as a result, thieves were constantly on a search for it. At least that's what William's son thought. Normal people were brought to an office down the hall and two the left. It was small, dry, simple, and very professional, perfect for visiting adults with business, politics, and money on their mind. Katherine, however, was brought to the kitchen, which was comfortable, small, brightly colored and full of the scent of freshly baked cookies. A laptop sat open on a small oak table draped with a blue tablecloth.

"Mmmm," Katherine said, sniffing the air, "Chocolate Chip."

"Your favorite, excuse me." He grabbed some kitchen mitts and ran to the oven pulling out the freshly baked cookies. "They'll cool in a bit."

She smiled warmly and sat down in her usual chair.

"Your fourth story was a success you know, still getting messages about it if you want to read." He pointed to his laptop, and she shook her head. "You know, I don't like taking the credit for your stories Kat," he said pointedly.

"I know, but I have lived a long time. I don't need any more fame than I already have."

He sighed, shaking his head slightly as he did, "You should read them Kat maybe they will help you—"

"No." She said simply, it was quiet, not harsh but firm.

William knew that was the closest he would ever get to truly making her angry. With a little pause to look at her with pity, he sat down at his desk and folded his hands. "So what's going on?"