Something about the way he said it made her uneasy. Yeah, he'd like to have one, but not a different one, he wanted hers.
"Now."
He looked up at her, his jaw line firming, squaring as if fighting himself over her demand. For a moment she wasn't sure he was going to give the pencil back, then he tossed it her way. As her fingers closed around it, relief coursed through her. Now she knew how that old hobbit had felt in the Lord of the Rings movie when he got back the ring. She frowned at the whimsical thought. Except this wasn't a magical pencil.
A light bulb went off in her head.
She was an idiot...because that's exactly what it was. The pencil had to be magic. How else could she walk through a sketch? She couldn't, unless she'd used something special to make it.
"Where's the blow up picture you did?"
Startled, Storey tried to focus on Eric now standing in front of her.
Storey pointed out the book off to the left on her computer desk. He picked it up and made a weird sound.
"You're acting really strange, you know that?"
"Am not." He turned the pages, studying each intently, his face filled with conflicting emotions. Something about his demeanor made her uneasy. His stare struck her as too intense, his spine too stiff, his attention too focused. She kept her eyes trained on him as he meticulously checked out her book.
He sucked in his breath, the color draining from his cheeks. After a long moment he spun to stare at her, his eyes gone the color of obsidian. "When did you draw this one?"
"Last night. After we talked. I actually haven't taken a look at it since." She leaned forward, but was at the wrong angle to see it clearly.
Eric stared at her in horror and started whispering some kind of weird chant. She'd heard plenty of spells being cast over the last few years, yet she'd never heard anything like what he was speaking. "Are you a Wiccan?" she asked curiously, when he took a breath.
Pale and shaking, he shook his head. His voice hoarse, he said, "You have no idea what you've done."
"I've done? I haven't done anything." So much for his understanding. He didn't look well. As a matter of fact, he looked closer to passing out than anyone she'd ever seen before. "Are you okay? You look like you're going to faint."
"Faint?" he cried out in horror.
"Hey, chill. I don't want my mom running up here."
He sank down on the bed beside her, shaking his head. "I'm trying to keep my voice down. You're a little tough on my ego."
Storey closed her eyes and prayed for patience. "Ego? You are one weird guy, you know that?" Opening her eyes, she stared at his stunned, almost devastated eyes. "Okay, please explain. What is going on? Why are you upset and what do you think I've done?"
In a hushed, thick voice, he said, "Unleashed thousands of demons from the world in between."
Storey stared at him. Figures. She'd finally met a guy who seemed to like her, was a dynamite kisser and sure enough he had looney tunes playing away inside his head. "Huh? What did you say?" She shook her head. "No wait. Never mind. Look..." She stood up and walked to the door, opening it. "It's gotta be time for your medicine or something. It's definitely time for you to go home."
He stared at her with empty eyes. She started to freak a little. "Did you hear me? You need to go home. You said you were supposed to earlier and I understand now. No problem. I won't tell anyone. Just...please go."
With a shake of his head, he stood up. "I can't do that. I need you to meet someone."
Storey shook her head. "No way. I'm so not going to meet any of the people in your life."
"Look I'm not sick. I don't need medicine. I need you to understand that this pencil, this stylus is special. It creates doorways – as you've found out. Somehow, you've opened a door that has remained sealed for hundreds of years. Even I don't understand the repercussions here. But," he emphasized, "we have to fix this."
"Fix what? I don't understand. You aren't making any sense."
"Like what you told me earlier down by the mine made sense?" He closed his eyes briefly. "You trusted me to listen to you and now I'm asking you to listen to me. The stylus enhances your abilities. In your hand it can create doorways." His blue eyes opened to blaze down at her. "Please. It won't take long. We could be there and back in an hour. I need you to show these drawings to someone."
Peering into his eyes, Storey wondered how to tell if someone was late for his dose of anti-psychotics. "Where?"
"Not far."
"Not far doesn't mean much."
"This is important. Vitally important. Please. What harm could it do to talk to him?"
He reached out and grasped her hand. Staring deep into her eyes, he pleaded, "Please. We have to go show him this." He flipped the sketchbook around so she could see the picture. A picture on a different page.
"Show him what? That's just something I drew before falling asleep last night. I was doodling on the door."
"Look at it closer," he ordered.
Playing along, she took another look. The markings looked different. She realized the doorway stood slightly ajar. Just then Eric shifted his fingers and she could see the picture clearer.
There, wrapped around the wood, as if trying to force it wider open, were eight long, knobby fingers.
***
The moment he felt the shift in her attitude, his panic eased. At least most of it. "Thank you." He stepped back, rotating his neck and shoulders as the tension eased.
"I didn't say I'd go."
"Yes, you did." He closed her sketchbook. "Let's go. Now." As much as he wanted to take the stylus from her, it was clear that it had already bonded, and the person who'd tried to take it from her had better watch out.
"Wait. What's the rush? Besides, what am I going to tell my mother?"
"We'll explain that you forgot your homework and that I have the assignment that you're missing."
"That's great for you. I don't do homework."
He shot her a look of disgust. "'Then you should. Do you really just want to work at the corner store all your life?"
"I don't work at a corner store," she snapped.
"No, but that's all you're going to be good for with your education level, isn't it." Thank heavens for the comprehensive database they kept on the humans. His studies had allowed for a unique insight to Storey and the society she lived in.
"Arrgh. Who are you to talk?"
She stormed downstairs. The chanting reached them first. Right, preparations for the ceremony. Rather than disturbing them, Storey and Eric made a quick exit out the back door. Eric's pace picked up outside. He practically ran – back in the direction of the damn mine. When they reached the edge of Lewis Park and where she'd told him about the portal, she'd had enough.
"What the hell are we doing back here?" She glared at him and backed up several feet. "We're almost back to where we started."
"We're probably close enough." He dug into his pocket and grabbed a weird silver bracelet that he clasped around his wrist. He tapped a series of buttons on it, filling the air with a musical set of notes.
Story narrowed her eyes at him. "What's that?" she asked suspiciously. "I've never seen anything like it."
"No, it's not common over here."
"Over here?" She surveyed the deserted park and the overgrown path that led to the mine entrance. How come in all the years she'd lived here, she'd never once gone down the path to the mine?
"Yes, over here." He grinned, reached out and grabbed her hand. "Just a few more steps. Here."
Spluttering her protests, she snapped, "I don't want to go with you anymore. I've decided I don't like you. You're beyond irritating, you know that."
A strange voice interjected. "No, he doesn't, but the rest of us do."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Storey spun around. Her jaw dropped. "Where'd you come from?" she demanded, her eyes locked on the costume-clad man now before her. "You weren't here a second ago."
Her voice rose to a loud gasp and her e
yes widened as the wall behind him came into focus. She gulped and spun in a circle. The sky had disappeared. Leaves no longer crunched under her feet and the fresh woodsy scent no longer drifted her way. Her stomach wiggled, then wiggled some more as she gulped for air. Where was she? And how had she gotten here?
They'd been standing beside the creek then...a shudder snapped from her toes to her head with realization. Swallowing hard, she shifted closer to Eric.
The wizened old man with a huge beard and tufts of hair decorating his bald head glared at her. His gaze switched to Eric. "What have you done? Do you know how many rules you've broken?" His voice rose to a high pitched squeak at the end. His hands, fisted on his hips, all but disappeared into the folds of his robes.
Storey studied the angry character in front of her. The angle of his chin, that aristocratic nose tilt, that demanding voice – yeah, he was used to giving orders. And expecting them to be carried out. He was a little out of her experience. She couldn't help asking, "Who are you?"
A piercing blue gaze landed on her and narrowed. "I'm Paxton. And you're Storey Dalton." The gaze shifted to Eric. "Explain."
Eric opened his mouth. No words came out.
"Now." The bright blue gaze hardened to steel. When Eric didn't immediately jump in with an explanation, he added, "You're done. You know that, don't you?"
"I had to," Eric protested. "You don't understand."
"No. I don't." Paxton spread his arms wide. "I can't until you explain."
Eric glanced over at Storey. "Let me have the sketchbook, please."
She gazed at him for a long moment, not fully understanding yet knowing it was important. She handed it over. Her stomach knotted as Eric flipped through the pages, searching for what he wanted. He went too far and had to go back a few pages, letting out a small hiss as he did so.
"Here." He twisted the book and placed it under Paxton's nose.
Paxton's eyes widened. Glancing from Storey to Eric then back again at the picture, he asked, "How?"
"Show him," Eric said to her.
Reaching into her pocket, Storey pulled out her pencil or stylus, as Eric called it, and held it up.
The color leached from Paxton's face and he took a small step back. "No. Oh, no."
"Oh, yes."
"What?" Storey was beyond confused and she had no explanation for the coldness in her stomach. Ice had spread out to her limbs. Wrapping her arms around her belly, she wished she knew what the hell was going on. "Look, I don't understand. What's wrong with that picture? It's just a sketch. It's not real or anything."
"Did you draw this picture?" At Storey's nod, Paxton continued, "With...that?" He pointed to the pencil.
Again she nodded. He closed his eyes and started speaking in some weird language. The same one Eric had used earlier.
"Do you guys belong to the some religious group where you speak in tongues or something? I've never heard a language quite like that."
"You mock us?" shrieked Paxton, stiffening in outrage. "Do you realize what you have done?"
"Obviously not," she snapped. "Since no one will tell me what the hell is going on."
Eric's eyes widened. He stared at her wordlessly.
She glared at Eric, catching his wince before he covered it up. "Now what?"
"We don't swear here. It's considered rude," Eric whispered. "Paxton doesn't know that word but anyone who's studied your language might."
"Rude? I'm supposed to worry about my manners now? What the hell are you talking about? Over where?"
He spluttered. "Please, show some respect. Don't swear."
"All right, geeze." His look didn't improve. "Oh, for crying out loud. Geeze is not a swear word." She glowered at him. What was his problem, anyway? And since when had he become such a prude?
Paxton's cheeks sucked in like small craters.
"Whatever." She held out her hand. "I'll take my sketchbook now, thanks." Hand outstretched, she snapped her fingers when Eric didn't pass it over. "I don't know what game you're playing, and I don't care. I want no part of it. So, I'm going home."
"No, you're not." Paxton drew up to his full height. Storey's gaze widened as he stretched above her. How tall was he?
"You'll stay in our world until we get to the bottom of this."
"Your world," she snapped. "What are you talking about?"
"You are..." Eric paused...took a deep breath...then rushed to get the rest of the sentence out. "You are in another dimension."
"Oh, for the love of God." Storey threw up her hands at the stony looks shooting her way. "Look, I've had enough. You zip me to another dimension, whatever that means, without asking my permission, tell me I can't go home, give no explanation as to what is going on and then expect me to be calm about it!"
Eric reached out a reassuring hand. She stumbled back out of range. "No." She pointed at Paxton and said, "Hell, no."
This time, Eric grabbed her shoulder and gave her a good shake. Glaring down at her, he said, "Stop. I know you don't understand. Just, please, calm down. I will explain." He glanced over at the steaming Paxton. "I promise."
Storey stepped back, glaring up at him. "You'd better. And for your information, I swear when I'm pissed off, so don't piss me off. That includes shaking me."
He closed his eyes briefly, dropped his hand and stepped away. "You'd make a saint crazy," he muttered.
Paxton gasped in outrage. "Which you aren't," he roared. "You should be able to control this...this female."
"Control," she gasped in shock. For some reason the whole mess slid from bad into ludicrous. "'I must be having a bad dream. Eric? Control me? I don't think so." She started to giggle.
"Oh, thank you very much. See how she treats me?" He scowled at Paxton. "Why did you have to go and say that?"
"That's enough from both of you. This is no laughing matter. We have a crisis on our hands and need to find a solution." He glanced down at the sketchbook now in his hands. "Quickly. Wait in my office while I call an emergency Council meeting."
Storey was still giggling as they took several more steps, then she stopped. This wasn't just a room. This was some kind of laboratory. Stunned, she could only stare at the pristine white counters, walls, ceilings, even the huge monitors were white with a black trim. "Eric?"
"You're in my world now. It's very similar to yours." He hooked his arm through hers. "Don't panic. Everything is fine. I walked you across a veil that exists between the two worlds."
"Veil?" Easy for him to say. Getting her head wrapped around the concept, not so easy. Still, there was no arguing that she walked on tiles and under some kind of weird fluorescent lights instead of grass and sky. "You're not from my world?"
"Nope." As she stopped in front of a large series of monitors, Eric added by way of an explanation. "It's Paxton's communications center. He controls the crossings."
"There's more than one?" She slid him a sideways look. "Does my side know about your side?"
He pursed his lips and shook his head. "We don't think so, but it's possible. There are several crossings; we keep most of them shut down. We travel to your side when we have specific research to complete. To the best of our knowledge, there aren't any crossings from your side to ours – at least not regulated ones."
"So, I'm the first to visit?" For some reason that concept tickled her. She'd always wanted to get away from her life. Now she was in the most bizarre, abnormal situation imaginable and didn't know what to think. Contrary was her name. She should be scared, but it was as if the jumps into the mine had prepared her for this eventuality. Well, not quite this reality. Then his words penetrated. They'd been coming to her world whenever they wanted to – yet no one at home knew.
"Come this way." Eric tugged her arm, leading her toward a closed door. She followed, trying to take in everything. So similar and yet...different.
Eric looked normal enough. Paxton didn't. He was a little on the odd side. Then again, what if a monk, Goth or a Muslim person came here? Eric's people
would consider him representative of her world, too. "This isn't fair. You know how to do all this and we don't."
"Fair?" Paxton ran up behind them. "Look what happens when you do know a little bit." He brushed past and through the door ahead of them.
"Really." She exhaled heavily. "Let's not forget who left a stylus in my world in the first place. I wouldn't have found it if you'd stayed where you belong." She wasn't going to take the blame for this – whatever this was. They shouldn't have sneaked over to her side. Having perpetrated one wrong, they shouldn't have compounded it by leaving something dangerous behind.
"I know."
"Come, come. Don't dawdle. We don't have time. Everyone is almost here." Paxton hurried ahead of them, tossing an urgent look back their way.
Storey didn't get it. "How did everyone manage to get here in the time it took me to walk the length of the floor?"
"Things are a bit different here." He grinned down at her. "You'll see."
"That's what I'm afraid of," she muttered. "Some info would be helpful. Does everyone look like you and Paxton, for a start? I don't want to walk into that room and find talking alligators or some such thing."
He laughed. "No, we all look like you. Although, we call ourselves Torans. And Paxton is a little more unique than the rest of us."
"Is that what you call it?"
Eric stopped at the doorway, twisting to look down on her. "You're stalling. You can do this. Heck, I even went to school and attended classes with you. How bad can this be?"
Glaring at him, she stormed through the doorway and came to a sudden halt on the other side. "No one ever smiles in your world, do they?"
The normal looking room was full. Crowding around a large oval table in the middle of the room were dozens of people and even more stood in the back. Everyone stared, frowning at her. Too bad. Her dreams of a magical world spiriting her away went up in smoke. They all looked depressingly normal.
"They aren't that bad." Eric stepped forward. Staring ahead, his back straight, he addressed the room formally. "Greetings, Council. May I present Storey Dalton. She's from the other side of the veil."
Storey couldn't help stiffening at the multitude of curious and judgmental looks zeroing in on her.
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