by P. R. Frost
I held the gate open while they drove through, then closed it behind Donovan’s vehicle. No sense alerting any passing rangers that we trespassed. They’d have to look close to note that the lock was gone.
Donovan pulled ahead of the van. He kept our speed reduced, compared to freeway excesses, but still faster than I would have driven the narrow road without streetlights.
We pulled into the gravel turnout. I checked on Scrap. He’d consumed the entire jar of moldy cheese.
Go away. I’m sleeping, he mumbled.
“You going to be up for a fight in a few minutes?”
Mft, phew, grl. Yeah, maybe. For you, babe.
At least the basket didn’t smell like a toxic waste dump from his lactose intolerance. Yet. I’d hate to have to burn Lucia’s gift.
“Moon coming up,” Mickey said excitedly as he climbed out of the van.
Twenty faeries in varying shades of gray with mere hints of pastel in the folds of their wings and draperies tumbled out behind them. They twitched their noses eagerly, and as one turned to face the cave opening in the crook of the Goblin’s “elbow.”
“Home,” they whispered breathlessly. “I smell home.”
“No time to dawdle, folks,” Gollum said. He began herding the dancers down the path, lighting the way with his flashlight. He had his backpack, stuffed with essentials.
“The Eagle Scout at work,” Donovan sneered.
“That’s why I love him,” I said and followed along, taking the arms of two of the weaker faeries.
We made a great deal of noise coming down the path. No way to hide all those shuffling feet. The faeries might have been more silent if they could spread their wings and lift their feet more than half an inch. The desert chill on a clear night and near zero humidity didn’t help them much.
Still we made good time on the hundred yards or so. We saw no signs of Gregbaum’s guards.
“Is it too much to hope that when Lucia killed Gregbaum, his minions died, or reverted, or disappeared into the chat room and another dimension,” I whispered to Donovan.
He paused while helping a male faery over a rough patch. The female he’d thrown over his shoulder.
I noticed Gollum had done the same thing.
“I don’t think so. Once created, mutated, whatever, they take on lives of their own, separate from Gregbaum. They’re here. I just can’t tell where. Something about their Faery origins masks them from normal perceptions until they want to be seen.”
“Scrap can you smell any bad guys.”
Nope. He sounded a little more alert.
“You up to joining us yet.”
Yeah, yeah, in a moment.
“Now, Scrap. You can doze on my shoulder as well as you can in that basket.” I took ten long steps with faeries in tow before the imp roused himself long enough to pop onto my shoulder. He rested his head on my hair and wrapped his tail around my neck to keep himself in place.
“You aren’t going to be much help if it comes to a fight, are you.”
Mumble, mumble. Nothing coherent from him.
Great.
Good thing Donovan and I had brought swords along. He carried them across his back inside his shirt as a makeshift sheath.
“Moon coming into place,” Gollum called the moment he reached the base of Goblin Rock.
“That’s not the only thing in place.” From my perspective ten yards back, with the moon just starting to glimmer behind the portal, I spotted the distinct shape of a bundle of dynamite jammed into the cave opening.
And three long wires trailing away behind the monolith. Something chuckled wickedly from the thorny shrubs in the near distance.
Chapter 48
The Apache was the first “high rise” hotel in Las Vegas with its own elevator. It towered three stories.
“BOMB!” I CALLED in my best schoolteacher voice. “Everyone freeze.”
They obeyed.
“Gollum, can we cut the wires without setting that thing off?”
“You’re asking the useless professor?” Donovan sneered.
“Not as useless as you may think. What do you know about explosives?”
“Um . . . a little bit of construction type demo.”
“Not enough. Gollum, verdict?”
“Can’t tell from here in this light.” He edged closer, playing his light along the wires.
“Scrap, where are the bad guys?” I whispered.
Running for the hills like they’re expecting the sky to rain down fire and brimstone, he replied on a yawn.
“We’ll have to go after them.”
Later, babe. Gotta get these faeries back home first. Close the portal, then black, red, and ugly are easy prey.
Tendrils of moonlight stretched through the opening portal in a dozen different directions, ethereal, wispy. And turning to black smoke as they traveled closer and closer to the fleeing forms.
“They’re drawing energy continuously from Faery. Cut off their power and they lose strength,” I mused.
“It’s only about ten feet up. I think I can get to it,” Mickey said. He closed his eyes a moment in concentration. Royal blue energy shot out of the portal to enfold him. It shimmered around him in a glorious aura. The glow coalesced into a pair of magnificent wings that stretched from above his head to his heels.
Transparent wings, without a lot of substance.
“My God, he really is the crown prince of Faery!” Donovan breathed.
“You expected less?” I replied. “A true prince risks everything to save his people.”
I almost heard Donovan’s argument that he had risked his financial empire time and again to provide a safe haven for his people.
Only they weren’t truly his people. He was a gargoyle turned traitor, condemned to live as a human.
The wings weren’t enough to lift Mickey to the portal. They only kept his steps light so that fragile sandstone didn’t crumble beneath his feet.
“It’s just resting there. I can move it,” Mickey said. He reached his right arm to encircle the bundle.
“Mickey, no!” Gollum ran to stand directly beneath him. “It’s on a timer and going to blow. Get out of there.”
“The moon is rising. The portal’s going to close,” Donovan added.
“I can do this.” Mickey pushed off from the rock face, the dynamite cradled against his chest.
“Everybody down!” Gollum yelled. “Drop it, Mickey. Drop it now!”
Blinding light. Deafening noise. A whoosh of air knocked me on my ass.
Fire and rock rained down us.
I crouched, my head down, arms forcing two faeries into tight fetal balls.
Hot rock burned my hands, ate through the synthetic fiber of my sweater. Not as much as I expected. I endured the brief pain.
“Mikhail,” the dancers wailed as one.
I spread my wings over my Tess. Sparks bounce off them. Bigger embers scorch holes in my tender flesh. I endure. I have to protect my Warrior though the pain nearly drives me home to Mum.
Come to think on it, this pain is less than Mum’s broom swatting my cute little bum.
If only I had a cigar to lessen the pain.
I’ve known worse. I will know worse still.
The fire threatens to engulf my soul.
I remember the Guardians and the black nothingness of their prison. This brief searing lessens.
I feel a wart or two breaking through on my spine. The pain is worth it to save Tess.
Are those elongated figures whipping through the smoke? They come to protect their valley. I am in no danger as long as I protect and serve.
Over the ringing in my ears, I heard a whump and a thud against the desert floor. “Mickey,” I breathed and dashed to the fallen prince. Flying dust caught in my throat and burned my skin. I tasted grit and spat it out.
“Everybody up to the portal, now!” Gollum commanded. “You’ve got to get through before the moon moves and it closes again.”
I sensed Donova
n helping to herd the dancers toward their home. They kept trying to break free of his grip and return to their prince.
“Mickey?” I held a hand to his chest. He seemed intact, a little singed around the edges, but nothing severed or bleeding externally.
A faint whisper of air.
“He’s breathing!” I told the assembly.
Vague forms scrambled up the rock face. As they neared the opening, they took on more color and definition. The gray of fatigue and separation washed away in a flood of benign light from home.
I tried to lift Mickey by the shoulders.
“Don’t move him,” Gollum said, coming up beside us. “He’s bleeding internally from the fall. Probably concussed.” As he spoke, the light from the portal began to close. “He must have thrown the bomb aside at the last second.”
“Easy, Mickey, just keep breathing,” I urged as I lay his head back down.
“Home? Did they make it home?” Prince Mikhail gasped for more air, painfully.
I almost didn’t hear his words. Tears burned my eyes.
“Two more to go. They’re going to make it, My Lord Mikhail,” Gollum said with respect.
“I have served.” Mickey closed his eyes. His breathing became fainter yet.
The light dimmed further.
“They’re through, and the portal’s closing,” Donovan announced.
“You can’t die. I won’t let you die.” I rubbed Mickey’s face, willing him to open his eyes again.
“If he could get to Faery, he’d heal,” Gollum mused.
“Too late,” Donovan said.
An imp can go anywhere, anywhen, Scrap said.
“Scrap, can you take him home?”
Nope. But you can.
The ring near burned on my hand. I yanked it off and slipped it onto Mickey’s thumb, making sure I twisted it.
“Mickey, I know you still live. You have to will yourself home. Think of home. Picture it in your mind.”
A tiny glimmer of a smile lit his face. “Home.”
“Yes. Think of home. Will yourself to go home.” I twisted the ring again and again. “Just go home.”
“I don’t believe it,” Donovan breathed. The portal’s opening again. The moon has moved past, but it’s opening again.”
“Quick, help me carry Mickey up there.” I kept twisting the ring, remembering bright flowers, a clear stream falling over a jumble of rocks, rainbow-colored beings flitting about in the sunshine. I’d seen it once before, the first time I entered the chat room in a fever dream years ago when the imp flu first possessed me.
Donovan slid his hands beneath Mickey’s shoulders. Gollum took his ankles. I braced the faery prince beneath his back.
“On three,” Donovan said.
We lifted in one smooth movement, keeping Mickey as level and still as possible. Desperately avoiding dropping him, we stumbled and slid the few yards to the base of Goblin Rock.
The monolith looked as if it sagged a bit. I didn’t care. If we could just get Mickey up to the cave mouth . . .
Gollum pulled a coil of lightweight rope from his pack. Quickly, he fashioned a harness.
Donovan slid Mickey’s legs through it and looped the length around his shoulders.
I placed Mickey’s left hand over his right so that he could touch the ring.
By the time Donovan finished, Gollum had hauled himself up to the cave, the other end of the rope in his hands. He braced himself at the opening.
“Think of home,” I reminded Mickey one more time, giving the ring a last twist.
“Oh, my,” Gollum gasped, looking over his shoulder. “Even faded, it’s beautiful. I think it’s healing already.”
“Home,” Mickey whispered. His face twisted in pain.
“Tess, you’ve got to climb beside him, keep his body as level as possible,” Donovan said. He scanned the height of the monolith. “The rock’s too fragile to support my weight. You’re the only one who can do this.”
“I know. Okay, Scrap, it’s you and me. You tell me where to grab and step so I can concentrate on Mickey.”
Gotcha. The imp lifted free of my shoulder and flew back and forth. Left hand here, right foot there, he directed me.
Somehow we managed it. With one hand bracing Mickey so he didn’t bang into the uneven rock, I held the picture of Faery in my mind. I let the others think through the climb for me.
Mickey gained enough strength and presence of mind to give the ring an occasional twist.
Gollum bless him, lifted a full-grown man smoothly.
Donovan boosted us from below, then directed the beam from the flashlight where I needed to be.
At last, sweating and breathless, I grasped the cave lip. With my shoulder under Mickey, Gollum hauled him the last few feet.
With the worst of the drag off me, I chanced a glance into the cave. About five feet high at the opening, it went back only a few feet.
But where a blank wall should define the end, the red rock dissolved and showed a distant view of light and color, like looking through the wrong end of a telescope. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think. I could only gaze with longing at the most beautiful of all the dimensions. I’d said the word “home” so often I almost believed that was where I needed to go.
Easy, dahling. Don’t get lost. That is not home to you.
Gollum eased out of the cave to make room for Mickey’s supine form. Together we pushed his feet, aiming his head toward the opening.
As we worked, the image at the end began to fade.
“Clap, Donovan,” I called. My hands were too occupied with Mickey and keeping myself from falling.
“What?”
“Just do it. Like the end of ‘Fairy Moon.’ Clap as if Mickey’s life depends upon it.”
Strangely, he did. He brought his big hands together again and again. The willful slap of flesh against flesh resounded through the valley, picked up by the hills and bounced back to us. The sound doubled and doubled again, filling us with the resolve that this faery must live.
The lines of smoke and energy swirling around and around coalesced into vague outlines of beings with round heads and long triangular bodies that trailed off into wisps of energy. Red, black, gold, purple, and green, they gathered in a ritual circle around us. And they too clapped, continuing the magic through the dimensions. Helping us. Guiding us. Guarding us.
At the last second, two pairs of arms reached through from Faery and aided their prince home.
Just like the end of the dance.
Chapter 49
Ronald Reagan played Vegas in 1954 at the Last Frontier.
MY BABE LAUGHS AND CRIES as she and Gollum slite back to the safety of the ground. They hug joyously. Donovan joins them.
Each of the men vies with the other to kiss her. They both do.
I’d laugh, too, but my mind returns to the other side of the closed portal. Prince Mikhail has taken the ring with him. Now I’ll never get a chance to free the black imp inside the diamond.
Is that such a bad thing? I feel for that imp. My fate could have been his. But would loosing him help maintain the balance among the dimensions?
I guess its only fitting that the ring has returned to the faeries; they made it after all. They removed a violent imp from the universe for a reason. An imp too bloodthirsty to bond with a Warrior has no purpose in the grand scheme of things.
But still, I really, really needed to end the agony of that nameless imp. He calls to me across the dimensions through the cracks in the diamond.
Only my love for my dahling Tess saved me. I should rejoice with her.
A cigar and a big dose of beer and OJ will ease some of my pain.
Maybe Ginkgo will help remind me of the glory of life. I’ll just pop over to the Citadel for a bit and give Tess and Gollum a little privacy to celebrate on their own. They need this time together, to remind themselves of the importance of their lives together.
They can’t let a little thing like the insane Julia come b
etween them.
That would be just wrong.
They’re already starting with a deep kiss across the center console of the Hummer.
If Tess is going to get laid, so am I!
Donovan’s going to ditch the van registered to Gregbaum out in the desert somewhere. My babe and her love will meet up with him at a nearby freeway junction.
They’ll work it out on their own. No one needs me right now.
“Hey, Scrap,” Tess calls. “Good work, buddy. Get some sleep. You deserve it”
Ah, Tess. She does think of me.
Life is good.
Exuberance carried Gollum and me all the way to the door of our hotel room. We touched, held hands, kissed often. A couple. Together. No doubts, no encumbrances.
While he fumbled with the key card, I held his mouth captive with my own, frustrated that I couldn’t get his shirt off until he shed the heavy backpack.
At last, the door swung open and we tumbled inside, too eager for each other to think.
The pack hit the floor with a thud. My boots followed. I pushed him backward onto the bed, jumping on top of him, mouth open, hungry for more kisses, more everything of my Gollum.
Something chirped. An annoying sound interfering with my celebration of a job well done and beautiful lives saved.
The chirp continued.
“Um . . . Tess,” Gollum mumbled around my mouth. “Tess, that’s the alarm on my watch. I have a plane to catch.” He sounded disappointed.
“Can’t it wait?” I slid my tongue along his cheek, down his neck, amazed at the fairness of his midnight stubble.
“I’m sorry. I have to go back to New York. Tonight. Now.” He groaned. His fingers clung to my back fiercely.
Then he pushed me aside and rolled off the bed.
Instantly chilled and sober, I knew I had to face the questions I’d hidden from since that phone call this afternoon that sent him into a terse funk.
“Talk to me, Gollum. I need to know what you want from me.” I think I knew.