by Paul Neuhaus
Dwindling, dwindling.
The black space around her shook. It would give way soon and then the house on Mulholland Drive would implode. Followed by the houses around it. Followed by the town around the houses. Followed by…
She knew what it meant to do what she’d done. Still she watched Verbic disintegrate with her cruel green eyes.
The last of Reginald Verbic flew through the jagged fissure in the membrane and, bracing herself, Quinn cast a sphere around the spot where the Asura had hovered. Within the sphere, she made a vacuum containing no mana. Just as she’d done when she killed Sato, she deprived that area of all things magic.
The sphere straddled the Astral Plane and the Physical Plane with the tear in the membrane within it. Maya ceased to flow and, freed from the constant push-pull of energy flowing through it, the tear sealed. Once the membrane was healed, Henaghan banished the sphere and restored the natural order within the space.
The membrane turned a healthy pink.
Quinn dropped out of the black back into Reginald Verbic’s living room.
She was alone. The chair facing her didn’t even contain a body.
Quinn stood, suddenly hearing the insistent call of the outside world. The call of the murdered who just got justice. Bettie Lyman. Annabelle Grindle. Noah. Taft.
Breathless, she went through the front door, closing it behind her. She stood on the front porch of 119 for a moment, gulping air. When she’d collected her scrambled wits, she walked down the lawn to the sidewalk.
Henaghan was so focused on getting to her car and driving away she almost didn’t hear Nicholson when he spoke. He was at the end of his driveway again—this time waiting for her. “How’d it go?”
“Good, I think. Who really knows anything?” Quinn said.
Nicholson laughed. “Sounds about right. You want some advice, kid?”
“I sure as hell do.”
“This is a company town. A pack mentality. There’s no such thing as a safe space and, if somebody wants you in their club, it’s probably because they’re missing what you’ve got. You can be you all on your own.”
Quinn nodded to the actor. “That is the only thing anyone has said to me all day that makes any goddam sense.”
Quinn trudged to her car, at the very limits of her endurance. Little blue birds with bright red heads covered the Prius.
Epilogue - Home
When she got home, a desperately weary Quinn Henaghan crawled into bed next to Molly Blank.
QUINN HENAGHAN WILL RETURN in AEON of HORUS
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About the Author
Paul was born long, long ago in Cincinnati, Ohio. He had a normal childhood and did moderately well in school. When he came of age, he went to numerous colleges, starting with Ohio State University in Columbus and culminating at Kennesaw State College north of Atlanta, Georgia. That’s right: mid-college, he moved South where he indulged in fatty cuisine and intolerance for his fellow man. He received a BA in English which, sadly, benefited him little. Paul, in his early years, lacked a teacher’s temperament and professional writing jobs were few and far between. Undaunted, our hero returned to school where he received a degree in Computer Animation. For the next decade, he worked in the video game industry. During that ten year span, he relocated from Georgia to sunny Southern California. He also took a wife and — much to society’s regret — he produced twin offspring. In addition to his stint as an artist for games, Paul has also worked in fast food, retail, writing (some fifteen years after getting his English degree), video editing, and — most recently — teaching.
Paul enjoys reading, writing, and watching movies. He is, to this day, shockingly intolerant of his fellow man.
Also by Paul Neuhaus
Aeon of Horus - Book 2 of the Quinn Henaghan Chronicles (Coming Soon)
Messiah of Burbank - Book 3 of the Quinn Henaghan Chronicles (Coming Soon)