The Chronicles of the 8th Dimension - Limited Edition Box Set (4 Books): A Supernatural Thriller Box Set

by Carissa Andrews

  “I didn’t,” I say. “It just looks different to me. So I wanted to see it better.”

  “Different? Different how?” Gabe says from across the room.

  “It was glowing like it had its own aura. There’s this faint blue light around it that it didn't have before,” I say.

  “Odd. I don’t see anything,” Gabe says, taking a step closer.

  “Hey Braham,” Mike says, “we're making some progress. Check out what Morgan just did.”

  Braham straightens his shoulders, walks over to the table, and places a hand on my shoulder. A silent thank you for showing him the possible future.

  “Looks like you have the magic touch,” he says, grinning. “In more ways than one.”

  “It would appear so,” I laugh. “But the real question is, what does it mean?”

  “It means we can get more accurate with our time coordinates now. And give Braham the energy boost he’ll need to make it back as far as he needs to go,” Mike offers.

  “Anything that helps my accuracy would be greatly appreciated,” Braham says, tipping his head. “This is all still new to me in a way. I’m starting to, I don’t know, remember things. Different memories from other variations of me, I think. The ones in other realities. But they’re still not as clear as I’d like. I'll take whatever help I can get.”

  “Well if we've got that big old machine up and running, maybe it's time to get a move on. Don’t you think?” Bea says, standing up and leaning on the crook of her cane.

  Beyond the table, Thea takes a deep breath, her eyes trained on Braham.

  “Do you feel ready?” she asks.

  Braham’s gaze flits to Mike. “What do you think? Is this thing ready to work?”

  Mike bobs his head. “Should be, but I’ve never tried to send an angel back in time, so there could be glitches I can’t foresee.”

  Braham chuckles. “Noted. So what do you need me to do? Is there anything?”

  “You're going to be the recipient of the machine’s output, so we need you in close proximity to the device. It will create a sort of time bubble fifteen feet or so out in front of it. Since Morgan seems to be what the machine needs to even operate, she’ll need to stay in contact with it, I suspect,” Mike says.

  “Yeah, but in order to make my time-walking work, I need contact with Gabe or someone else, remember? How are we going to make that work? Wouldn’t I end up pulling Gabe or whoever with me?” Braham says.

  “Maybe? But even if that’s the case, it doesn’t seem like Gabe can go backward. So he should be able to find his way back to here and now if that does happen,” Mike says.

  “Who wants to be the one I hold onto?” Braham asks, looking directly at Gabe.

  Gabe smiles softly in return.

  I can see on his face how easy of a decision it is for him; he’ll do whatever it takes.

  It’s part of why I love him so very much.

  “Well, there's no reason why we can't all be a part of this. Once we have the coordinates, we'll just create some sort of angelic chain,” Mike says. “Morgan first, touching the device. Then Bea, Thea, me, Gabe…Then you, Braham. What do you think?”

  “Should be the big boost we're all looking for this evening,” Thea says, smirking.

  “Certainly what I'm hoping for,” Mike says, his head bobbing up and down.

  “Indeed,” Bea says.

  “All right, Morgan, what coordinates should I be plugging in here?” Mike asks, waving his hand for me to touch the time machine again.

  I lean, placing my hand along the small device. Again, it lights up, and I bend closer to have a better look at the controls.

  “I don’t know how this whole thing works—it’s really more your deal than it is mine,” I say, thinking. “Time itself should be pretty consistent, right? If that's the case, then we're looking at… oh, geez… I bet two thousand and thirty four years ago?”

  “Yeah, but we can get more specific than that. Can you narrow it down? Like, say, January twentieth, year zero?” he offers.

  Taking a step away from the table I run my hands through my hair.

  “When, exactly, would we want Braham to go back to? Obviously, we would need nine months before Jesus's birth at a bare minimum. He was meant to be born on December twenty-fifth, so, why don't we try for December twenty-fifth the year before? It will buy us some extra time just to make sure Braham can find Joseph and Mary in time. What do you all think?” I ask.

  Bea leans forward, fiddling with the end of her walking stick. “Hmmm… I think you might find going back to March the following year will be a better situation.”

  “Why is that?” I ask.

  She scratches at the bottom of her chin. “In the snippets I’m beginning to pull in from other realities, I get the impression he was actually born in the spring. I’m not sure why.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” I say, butting my forehead with the palm of my hand. “You’re a genius, Bea. I had completely forgotten about that. The Christians have adopted December twenty-fifth as Jesus’s birthday in like the year Three-thirty-six or something. They were trying to overshadow the winter solstice. I should have remembered that.”

  “It’s what I’m here for,” Bea says, shrugging. “Well, other than my marvelously funny sense of humor and drop-dead good looks.”

  “Yes, you are all of those things and more,” I laugh. “Braham, are you okay with that time frame?”

  “Whatever it takes to make this work is fine by me,” Braham says, his resolve hardening.

  “Even if it means having to stay there for a while?” Mike asks, surprise hidden in his tone.

  Braham shrugs. “What's a couple of months compared to the annihilation of everything? Besides, time is all relative. It won’t matter by the time I come back. Right?”

  “Good point,” I say.

  “All right, so March first, two thousand and thirty-five years ago it is,” Mike says, plugging in the date.

  “Is everyone ready for this?” I ask, looking around the room.

  Thea brushes off the top of her jeans and walks over to the table. “As ready as we'll ever be.”

  “Okay, here goes nothing,” I say, reaching out my right hand as an offering to Thea.

  Smiling, she tips her head in acquiescence and clasps her left hand in mine. Then she twists around, extending her arm out to Bea.

  Groaning as she gets up, she walks over to the table and grabs hold of Thea’s hand. As soon as she touches Thea, the pitch of the machine goes up a notch.

  “Well, looks like we’re kicking it into high gear,” Mike says, grinning. He takes Bea’s free hand and reaches out for Gabe, who takes hold of his right hand.

  “Now or never, Braham. Ready?” Gabe says, turning his gaze to the remaining angel.

  “Yep. Let’s do this,” he says, reaching for Gabe.

  When the chain is complete, the time machine hums even louder, and I close my eyes.

  “Everyone, concentrate on sending Braham back to the date on the machine—focus on sending him to where he’s meant to go in order to be most useful. See him in your mind getting there safely,” I say, trying to project over the hum of the machine. “I know for most of you, it will be vague, but concentrate on Braham rather than the date.”

  “Talk about weird. If I hadn’t seen and experienced some of the craziness happening these past couple days, I would have said you were nuts, Morgan,” Thea says, chuckling under her breath.

  “Me too,” I laugh.

  Silence falls upon us, and I begin to focus on the stories of Jesus. The ones I know from growing up in my reality. I think about the Bible and the stories of other aspects tying to the era around Jesus’s time frame. I focus on the history I know about the region, the details Bea gave to us about that time, and all the different nuances I can muster to help Braham get to where he's going.

  When everything becomes very clear in my mind, I squeeze Thea’s hand, and the entire vibration of the room goes up a pitch. I don't k
now if everyone else can hear it, but it's deafening to me. Swallowing hard, I let the energy pulse both of us out of this time and into next.

  The sensation is like being swallowed up by a huge drain and spit back out farther down the line.

  My insides recoil, and as much as I try to ride the current, I just can't seem to hold on. The others must be feeling the same, because groans of exertion filter to my ears.

  Suddenly, a cold darkness permeates everything around me. Shuddering it away, I hold on. I grip Thea’s hand tightly, maintaining as much contact as possible with the rest of the angels beside me. I know how important this is. We need to get Braham to where he's meant to go.

  Yet, despite my best efforts, the connection is severed. Instead of being surrounded by the swirling energy of time and space I’m thrust back from the device and slammed into the wall behind me.

  Opening my eyes, I see the rest of us are scattered around the room—but, worse, incorporeal demons have broken through the wards and are billowing their way through the stained-glass windows. They shouldn’t be allowed on this hallowed ground, and yet here they are.

  “How did they get in here?” Gabe cries, pulling himself up to a stand.

  “I was wondering the same thing. What happened to our wards?” I call back, scrambling to get vertical.

  “It would appear our black, billowy friends have decided to go on the offensive,” Bea says, reaching for her cane.

  Mike grabs a pew to stand up, then rushes over to Bea’s side, grabbing hold of her arm to help her get back up.

  “Here, let me help you, Bea,” he says softly, not even a hint of fear in his words.

  “I, for one, am not amused,” Thea mutters. “What do we do now?”

  “Well, for starters, where’s Braham?” I say, panic rising quickly as I look around the room. “Guys—did he make it out?”

  “Who the fuck knows? All I know is we need to take care of those ugly things and get them the hell out of here,” Thea yells, pointing to one of them just overhead.

  “I’m here,” Braham says, standing up. His hand is pressed to his temple as he shakes his head softly.

  Before my mind can fathom what this all means, one of the demons darts at Thea. Her eyes widen and she raises her arms in defense. However, before the demon can touch her, she blinks out of existence and pops back up on the other side of the room. Her body is in the exact same position it was in, just a different location.

  “Thea, how did you do that?” I ask, my mouth dropping open.

  She opens her eyes and looks wildly around the room. “I have no idea.”

  “Do we have anti-demon countermeasures?” Mike asks. He helps Bea to a seat and scrambles back to the time machine. “Because if not, we’re going to wanna deploy some.”

  “Michael, I'm pretty sure you're the warrior of the group,” Bea says. “And from the sounds of things, your memories are filling in faster. You might wanna go ahead and take care of this portion.”

  He quirks his eyebrow but tips his head in acknowledgment. Walking around the table, he drops his hand and, before our eyes, a sword made of golden light appears in his hand. Bringing his other hand to the hilt, he tips it downward, bringing the blade of light to the floor. As it comes into contact with the tiles, a burst of light expands from it like a shockwave, sending the demons backward.

  “There's only one thing that can permanently drive out the demons,” Gabe says, rushing to my side. “Morgan, can you get ready with the incantation? We're going to need be ready to ward the building again.”

  I nod. “Whatever you need. Bea? Can you help?”

  “Sure thing, darling. What would you like me to do?” Bea asks. “Shake my fist at them?”

  “Oh boy,” Thea says, rushing over. “What can I do?”

  “I just need some backup,” I say. “Follow me—over here.”

  Behind the large altar, I pull out the ingredients we’ll need for the protection spell. I place sea salt, rosemary, basil, lavender, sage, and a large white candle on the surface.

  “What are we going to do with all of this?” Thea asks, looking over her shoulder.

  Mike continues to send his protective light out into the sanctuary, but it only pushes the demons back so far. Their advances continue as they test his strength and will.

  “Here, take this,” I say, grabbing a small mortar and pestle and handing it to her. I dump a handful of salt into the bowl, then add the rosemary, basil, and lavender. “Mix this,” I tell her.

  She does as she’s asked. I light the candle, then dip the end of the sage bundle into the flame. Letting the sage soak in the heat, I wait until a good portion of the bundle has started to burn before blowing it out and allowing its fragrance to flood the space. Quickly, I sage myself, allowing the energy of the herb to cleanse my aura. When I feel like it’s done its job, I bring the smoke to the bowl in Thea’s hand, cleansing the contents.

  “Here, swap,” I command, holding the sage bundle out for her.

  “Okay,” she says, taking my offering and handing the bowl of salt back. “This stuff smells like pot.”

  She shoots me an apologetic smile.

  “Sage yourself the way I just did. Then I want you to take this and walk around the outer edge of the room. Got that?” I say.

  “Sure,” she says, bringing the sage bundle close to her body and circling it around herself.

  “Walk in a clockwise direction,” I say, tipping my head to her as she leaves the altar.

  “Alrighty,” Thea says, tipping her chin.

  Taking a deep breath, I cast my gaze to the scene in front of me. Mike continues to stand in the middle aisle, using his sword of light to beat back the demons. Braham is just off to his left side, his eyes fixed on the ceiling above and calling out when one of the demons is making progress. Gabe is to Mike’s right, doing all he can to support Mike and his effort. Thea circles around the space, and Bea remains seated at a pew with a look of bewildered amusement.

  “Gods, I hope this works,” I whisper under my breath.

  19

  Morgan

  Closing my eyes, I hold my hands out, palms upright.

  “Maris salis, protegere isto sanctuario. Mundabit illud, et ne nocere. Custodite et sanctuarium, a malo. Quo modo introire et pure positiva. Audi vota mea. Sic fiat!” I say, allowing the Latin words to tumble out of my mouth with precision.

  I continue to repeat the invocation, allowing the ancient wisdom in the words to permeate the space around us.

  After the fourth or fifth time, I pull handfuls of the salt from the bowl and sprinkle it across the room. In doing so, my words switch back to English.

  “Salt of the sea, protect this sanctuary. Cleanse it and prevent harm. Keep the sanctuary free from evil. Allow only the positive and pure to enter. Hear my wishes. So mote it be—” I call out, throwing the remainder of the salt over the altar.

  The energy around me rises—a white, spiraling energy that cyclones from my feet and encompasses the entire room. It merges with the light from Mike’s sword and the shockwaves it releases.

  Gabe drops all human pretenses, allowing his angelic energy and the full brunt of his light to expand outward in the sanctuary. The moment he does so, it triggers the rest of the angels to do the same. Thea is the next to follow, her bright pink light meshing with Gabe's ultra-white. Braham’s blue light spirals into the mix. Mike’s golden energy expands outward from his sword, encompassing his whole body. Before I know it, my own light bursts forth as an intense mixture of greens and blues.

  The demons have no choice but to evacuate the way they came in. Bea continues to sit on her pew, but she raises her walking stick high in the air as she uses it to send out her own form of bright purple light. With whatever energy she has in her cane, she beats back the remaining tendrils from the demon’s incorporeal forms, and they completely vacate.

  The moment the last of them has left the building, I once again mutter the incantation for our protection shield. Gab
e joins me in the chant and before our eyes, the building seals itself off. Glowing symbols of protection illuminate from the ceiling and cascade down the walls, until they cover everything from floor to ceiling.

  Holding my breath, I tilt my head to the side, listening.

  “I think we've managed to get rid of them,” Mike says, still holding his glowing, golden sword.

  Thea drops down to her knees, “Oh, thank god. For a moment there, I thought we were all goners.”

  “That was probably a consensus for a bit there,” Mike says.

  “Where did you get that crazy sword thing?” Thea says, nudging him in the shoulder. “It’s pretty rad.”

  Mike chuckles. “Rad?”

  “Yeah, like radical, man,” she says, sticking out her thumb and pinky finger like she was hanging ten at the beach.

  I exhale slowly, releasing all the tension I was holding onto.

  I’d never been that close to a demon before. Between my wards and Gabe’s protection, they’ve never gotten the chance to come close. I never realized how scary they really are.

  Braham takes a deep breath. “I guess this means we should try again?”

  Each of us look around the room. The same wide eyes and pale faces greet us as we go from face to face.

  “I suppose it means we should,” I say.

  “Holy shit—you’re damn skippy we should,” Thea says, looking at her watch. “We have only twenty-two minutes until our window closes.”

  “Alrighty, ladies and gents, game time,” Bea says, standing back up. She walks back to the table and takes her spot in front of the time machine.

  Mike’s nostrils flare and in the flick of his wrist, the sword of light vanishes. He walks over to the time machine and pulls it closer.

  “Morgan, are you ready?” he asks, looking at me from under his eyebrows.

  I nod, walking around the altar and taking up my place next to Mike.

  Without a word, Thea takes up her space, then Gabe, and finally Braham.

  “Well, let’s hope this time goes better than the last,” Thea says, arching her eyebrows.