“The Realms are naturally occurring forces of nature,” said Opal. “This door is not. What you’re looking at is the result of a powerful spell. I don’t know who cast it; that is hidden from me. But I have dreamed of battles and of the child Isis.”
“Is she still alive?” Mona said eagerly.
“Yes, Isis is a seer and a powerful sorceress. But she is young and has not yet learned how to channel her power.”
“A sorceress ...” Again, Mona had the queer feeling of events doubling over, of things she’d missed revealed. “They took Isis to use her, didn’t they? They might have even tapped into her powers to create this door. And whatever they did is, it’s linking both our worlds.”
Opal nodded approvingly. “Soon whatever impacts your world will impact Tundra as well. This cannot be left unchecked.”“Where is it— in my world? And where is Isis? Maybe, she’s in that room.” The dark woman’s head throbbed with excitement. “I bet she is.”
Opal’s eyes were impassioned. “The location of the doorway, and the one who fashioned it, is cloaked. I only saw it because it appeared in Topaz. He, or she, is holding Isis somewhere. She may very well be inside this room. But if she is, I can’t see it. We will have to unravel these mysteries to find her and to close the door.”
Mona turned her head to look at Opal. “And that’s why you’re here.”
“Your world cried out to me—to us—before this door appeared. North America is in pain. Your Earth is in pain, and this door is not the cause. It is a symptom. Together we will begin the healing.”
“Your lover, Curtis, will help you, and the ghost, Junebug, and Richard. I will be near, as will the other Guardians.”
“What about the werewolves? I wanna meet them.”
Opal smiled and lifted her hand to Mona’s cheek. “And so you shall. One day.” She stepped back ... and the vortex engulfed Mona once more.
Moments later, she heard the noise of a building ... laughter ... conversation. She was back in the hallway.
“Mona?” Junebug stood before her. “I fell asleep.” He looked confused. “I don’ know how.”
She hurriedly told him what had happened. “We need to find Curtis—”
Junebug shook his head. “You don’t need me,” he said, cutting her off. “You can handle this.”
“What—? Of course I need you!”
The ghost reached in his pocket and pulled out a velvet bag. “Here,” he poured out half the coins in her
hand, and shoved the bag back in his pocket.
“What’s wrong with you?!”
He turned his back on her and ran for the door, disappearing before he reached it.
_____
Chapter 12: The Vision
Curtis dressed in a derby, high-collar shirt, vest and stove-leg trousers. He belted his musket around his waist. In the pocket of his vest, he added a scroll and quill pin for taking notes; a tube of ink was nestled inside his other pocket.
For what felt like the hundredth time, the detective wondered if leaving the Constabulary was the right decision. After years of being a Constable, the job had become a comfortable routine, like a lover or old friend. But he figured he would give his PI career a chance to blossom. He could join the resistance and fight for change on the outside. He wasn’t entangled in the Brotherhood code—the vicious unwritten rule that no officer could rat another officer out, no matter what he did. As a black man, Constable or not, he couldn’t just shrug and look the other way while his people were being murdered. But he did miss the steady coins. This is what a man got to deal with he tries to live right.
For months, he’d been working off and on for restaurant and factory owners looking for dirt on their competitors. They were often dishonest and cheap, barely worth the cost of his full-page ad in the Monterrey Press. His old boss, Chief Maxwell, threw him a few cases now and then, follow-ups on homicides and robberies, but nothing steady.
But yesterday, a family practitioner, Dr. Mark Dearborn had hired him to tail his wife. Dearborn suspected his wife was cheating on him. If I do a good job, maybe he’ll spread the word. Hell, he can’t be the only cat in Monterrey with a cheating wife and fat pockets. I can rent my own place again.
Curtis pulled out his pocket watch and peered down at it. I gotta meet him in thirty minutes. I better get going ... Mona was supposed to send me a post. I wonder what happened?
He pushed his anxiety away and stepped out the door. Mona could take care of herself. She was so self-sufficient, so strong, that it had been a sore spot between them for years. She was a sorceress and empowered by her preternatural gifts. Although Curtis hated to admit it, the tension in their relationship had only begun to ebb when he became a meta-human himself. Even so, his power would never match hers.
He was honest enough to admit too, that he’d always felt threatened by Mona. She made me feel like less than a man.
Curtis knew now that his parents’ marriage had played a part in this. His father was thoroughly henpecked. Or so it would seem. Yet Curtis had started to realize that maybe he wasn’t seeing the whole picture of their union, with all of its nuances and subtleties. There were different kinds of strengths. Some loud, some silent. His parents had lived through the worst the nation could dish out.
Somehow they’d managed to keep their marriage afloat, and keep their dignity. His father had a quiet strength, often preferring to let his mother make decisions. But she never made a move without him, and he was always there to hold her up. They saw things, survived things worst than me. Pop kept his head up and his back straight. If that ain’t strong, I don’t know what is.
He was miserable without Mona. He’d accepted this too, accepted what she was. He realized he was powerful in his own right, even if his power was different from hers.
Mona needed him. She languished without him. I need her too. And I don’t need her to be weak for me to be strong.
Yet Mona was not invulnerable. Like any other human she could bleed. And she could die. Whatever was in Ethel’s house had scared the shit out of them both. But fear wouldn’t stop Mona from going back if there was something she wanted. No matter what she told him.
She’s so damn stubborn. I sure hope she’s alright. As Curtis moved down the stone path, an airship moved through the sky casting its shadow over the cobblestones. The ship was cylinder-shaped and overlaid with a filigreed. A propeller at the stern had a crank that had to be turned by human hands. Carved flaps on the port and starboard sides enhanced their buoyancy, as did the steam-filled cigar-shaped balloon above it.
Curtis paused on the tree-lined street, staring upward as it passed, his brown eyes introspective. Airships had always fascinated him, like huge gorgeous birds they were ... floating above in the clouds, defying gravity.
All at once he felt it, a sloughing of the air. He was moving in slow motion ... Men and women smudged into view, their bodies misty and translucent ...
That’s Eddie Plumb … Larry Barton … and Simone Starks ... These are the spirits of murdered men and women!
Curtis watched them, not sure what he should do. But he felt no ill will, no evil, emanating from them. They turned their dark eyes to him, hands outstretched, asking him ...
For what? What do they want from me?
A tree appeared, eclipsing all others, the branches spread out like an umbrella. The ghosts gathered around it. A woman appeared, standing beneath the tree. Unlike the other entities she was solid, with cinnamon-colored skin, her hair braided into an upsweep. She was clothed in a sleeveless wine-colored dress that strained at her ample bosom and hips, and she wore rings on both hands that were connected by loops to bracelets that ran along the length of her arm. Then all vanished.
And the spell was broken.
____
Chapter 13: The Sojourner
Junebug made his way down the street, with no destination in mind. He passed steam-autos, buildings, people on the street, barely seeing any of it.
The ghost had not fel
t such a turmoil of emotions … Since before I was human. Junebug looked up. He was standing beneath a carved sign that said, The Sojourner Restaurant and Pub. He’d wandered into Mid-Monterrey, a bustling business district downtown.
He felt a sudden urge to go inside. It’s early, but I sho’ could use a drink to settle my mind.
Junebug pushed the heavy door open and strolled inside, passing the check-in counter and staircase. Straight ahead was a bar and restaurant. He walked over to the bar and ordered a brandy.
The ghost woke his human host, Reynaldo. Why you let me sleep so long? Reynaldo complained. What’d I miss?
You ain’t miss nothing, Junebug replied tersely. He sat down at one of the tables and pulled a cigar from his breast pocket. Keep quiet now.
A woman walked into the pub. She had dark brown skin and hair that curled about her shoulders under a mini-top hat. Junebug followed her with his eyes ... her upturned nose, full lips, smooth flawless skin. He ran his eyes over her curves. She was voluptuously built to the point of plumpness and wore a blouse with latticed sleeves, a black corset, and form-fitting black trousers and boots that accentuated her small waist, full breasts, and wide hips.
In the next moment, her thoughts came to him. She was just a month shy of thirty-seven, and fearful of getting older. She was unhappily married, too. She’d come to this pub to meet her lover. She felt his gaze and glanced over at Reynaldo/Junebug, a smile playing about her lips before sitting down at the bar.
Man, she is fine! Reynaldo panted. You gonna make your move?
She waitin’ on somebody.
——
Mona left the borough and caught a horse and buggy cab to Downtown Monterrey, unsure of where she should go next. Her head was spinning from all Opal had told her.
Isis is alive. And she’s somewhere in Monterrey. So is that door.
A sign caught her eye. “Here!” she said, knocking on the panel behind the driver’s head, “Stop here.”
The driver steered the horse to the curb, and Mona jumped down and paid her. I’m hungry. I can eat here and send Curtis a post. I can send Ms. Stamps one too and tell her the search for Isis led me to Monterrey.
Mona pushed door open and walked in The Sojourner Restaurant and Pub.
_____
Thirty minutes later, the woman’s date still hadn’t arrived. Junebug waved the waitress over. “Send the lady whatever she’s drinking.”
The waitress placed a whiskey sour in front of the mystery woman. “It’s from him,” she said, pointing to Junebug.
The woman picked up her drink, sauntered over and stood before his table. “Thank you,” she said, her cheeks dimpling. She sat down across from him.
Junebug returned her smile. “A woman as fine as you ain’t got no business drinking alone.”
She pouted. “I got stood up.”
“That’s his loss. What’s your name?”
She fixed her midnight eyes on him. “Julia, what’s yours?”
“Larry but call me Junebug.”
They started to chat, with her doing most of the talking. Within a few minutes she was complaining about her husband. Mark was a doctor. He was never at home. He was only a few years older than her, but he acted like he was a hundred. She had needs ... The woman was starved for attention, for pleasure. And he was in the right mood to give her both.
Junebug ran his eyes over her glistening thick lips, her breasts full to bursting in her corseted blouse. He looked over at the bar. Rooms Available was cut into the wood over the mirror and in the vestibule beyond the restaurant, a staircase. Reynaldo read his train of thought and panted in anticipation.
“I been flying all night,” Junebug lied smoothly, “and I’m beat. I’m gonna get a room. Wanna come upstairs with me share a drink?”
Julia smiled into his eyes. She’d been waiting for just this invitation. “I’d love to.”
He purchased a bottle of whiskey, rented a room, and she followed him upstairs. Junebug unlocked the door to room 214, a small suite with a wide bed and brass headboard. Beyond curtained French doors that centered the room was a small balcony. He put the bottle and keys on the end table beside the bed. He shrugged out of his hat and jacket, and Julia tossed her hat away. Junebug pulled her to him, his fingers in her dark curls, kissing her slowly, while he ran his other hand over the curves he’d been eyeing for the last half-hour.
He steered her toward the bed. Julia unlaced her corset, and he unbuttoned her blouse and dropped his mouth to her dark nipples, her moans in sweet refrain to his lips and tongue. She dropped to her knees, unbuttoned his trousers and took him into her mouth. What kind of man leave a woman like this at home? His host Reynaldo blubbered in agreement.
He pulled her up and lifted her to the edge of the bed. Junebug pulled off her boots, while she clawed at the buttons of her pants, and Junebug helped her slip them off. Now she only wore her corset, which hung loose, and her open blouse. Junebug opened his shirt and knelt before her, suckled her breasts again and ran his tongue down to her valley. Junebug pushed his pants down to his knees, moving into the V of her open thighs. Still on his knees he entered her, sucking one breast than the other, her arms about his neck ... They came together with her legs wrapped about his waist and him thrusting hard inside her.
____
Chapter 14: Stakeout
They made love all day and then had an early dinner in his room. Junebug walked Julia outside and hailed a horse and buggy cab. “What you gonna tell your man when you get home?”
“He’s probably still at the office.” Julia scoffed, tossing her head. “If he’s home, I’ll just say I had dinner with some friends.”
Junebug considered lying. On a whim he told her the truth— as much of it as he dared. “I’m from outta town, but I’ll be here for a few more days if you can steal away.”
“Alright lover, I’ll be back tomorrow around noon.” Junebug’s full lips turned up in a smile. “I’ll be waitin’ baby.”
Julia kissed him and stroked his face with her fingertips, then climbed into the cab.
——
Curtis parked across the street from The Sojourner Restaurant and Pub, put his steam-auto in park, got out and turned the crank backwards. Dearborn had given him a handwritten list of wife’s spots. At top of the list was an inn, The Sojourner. She met men there, or so said the grapevine. The Black-Belt in any city was always ripe with rumors, and The Sojourner, according to Dr. Dearborn, was one of Julia’s regular haunts. As Curtis was climbing back in his auto, he saw a woman fitting Julia Dearborn’s description walk out of The Sojourner, followed by a tall fair-skinned man wearing an airship pilot’s uniform. He pulled out a cigarette, struck a match on the dashboard, smoked, and watched them.
——
Junebug headed back inside. Just before his hand touched the door, he stopped. Somebody’s watching me.
The ghost turned, his eyes settling on a steam-auto across the street. He looked into the eyes of the man sitting in the driver’s seat.
_______
The pilot shifted his eyes to look directly at Curtis. Their eyes locked, and Curtis could swear he saw recognition on the man’s face. Then he turned and walked back inside The Sojourner. Curtis pulled his scroll and quill out. He wrote down the time, date, what the woman was wearing, and a description of the man she was with.
______
Junebug unlocked the door to his room and stepped inside. He’d put his human host to sleep so he could think without Reynaldo babbling about how good Julia was, and how he couldn’t wait to see her again. What the hell is Curtis doing here? Wait a minute—he’s a PI and Julia’s married! I bet he was tailing her!
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