"He actually had the sense to call it Honeymoon Part II," Meggie said, cupping her hands around her mouth and speaking in a stage whisper, as if confiding some incredible secret. Diane just laughed.
"So we need some spiffy duds," Diane said, after Maurice flew in to join them and had to be updated on the story. "We know the vintage clothing room by heart. Do you have anything that hasn't been put out yet, maybe?"
"I have just the thing," Angela said. "You'll make those stick-thin models hanging out in Paris bloat up and turn green with jealousy."
On the way upstairs, she envisioned the perfect dress for Diane and called it into being. Perfect for a second honeymoon with a man who adored her as much as she adored him. Calf-length, creamy white, cap sleeves, with tiny blue flowers dotted all over the lacy overdress. Diane fell in love with it the moment she walked into the storage room, and could see nothing else. She didn't see the dress that hung on the dressmaker's dummy at the back of the room.
That dress and the old-fashioned dummy hadn't been there before, not even in Angela's imagination. She had dreamed of that dress once, with long, draping sleeves and a scooped neck, gold embroidery and tapestry on the hem and cuffs, like a lady would wear to Camelot. She had put away the dream decades ago. Why had it re-emerged now to taunt her?
Angela thought of the knight in her dreams and shivered. For the first time in decades, she felt a twinge of envy as she listened to Diane chatter about all the things she had to do before the Paris trip. Later, when Meggie and Diane were gone and Maurice was busy tormenting his buddy Guber, who had returned to his investigation of carob-contaminated chocolate--lethal to some Fae--sent to the Fae realms, Angela went back upstairs. Just to see if the dress was still there, or if it had faded away, perhaps just being a figment of her imagination.
The dress was there, but the colors had faded and the embroidery looked worn in spots. As if someone had worn it often since she first dreamed of it. The question was who--Angela, or someone else? And if she had worn it, why didn't she remember doing so?
She went into the painting room and checked to see if any of the images there had changed, indicating changes in the world they led into. A chill passed over her as she approached the painting she had fallen into during the robbery, and she paused to study it. Again she wondered: Had she fallen totally by accident, or had it been planned? Whoever had hired the three foolish young thieves and given them instructions and tools to break through the magic guarding Divine's Emporium, had he chosen that painting, or was it truly just bad luck, happenstance?
"Are you home?" she whispered, and flinched, taking two steps backwards.
Why had she asked that question? Why had she even thought it?
But now that idea had stuck in her head. Was it possible that one of these paintings was the doorway to the world she had originally come from? Was she even less Human than she thought? And if she had come from another world, another level of reality, what would happen if she stepped through?
Would nothing be changed? Would she be able to return to Earth, to Neighborlee, and Divine's Emporium? Because no matter where she originated, this shop, this town, this spot on Earth, was her home now.
"Stop it," she scolded herself, and swept out of the attic. For good measure, she pulled the door closed with a solid bang and ran her index finger around the handle three times, effectively sealing the room. She didn't like sealing anything inside the old house, because doing so interfered with the currents, both physical airflow and magical. But until this unknown enemy was caught, a little extra caution would be wise.
Coming back downstairs, she was surprised to see the light had changed more than she thought, indicating it was later in the day. Had she lost time again? Angela paused on the landing between the third and second floors and looked out the side window. From one angle, she saw the slope down to the Metroparks and the bright afternoon sunshine. The sun sat lower in the sky than she thought it should be. Double-checking, Angela turned around twice going right, then turned around once going left, while standing on the second step above the landing. Now the view changed through the same window, showing her a thick forest heavy with oaks and moss. No sunlight could penetrate the canopy there, and the time of day was measured by the changing colors of the winkies that encrusted everything that didn't move. Right now they were magenta with a hint of purple, meaning it was heading toward six in the evening.
How had she lost track of time?
"Losing track of everything," she muttered, and considered contacting some friends in the Fae realms, to come give the shop and her a long-overdue examination. Maybe she had brought some magical illness back with her from that unplanned tumble into the painting. She had already lost some of her serenity, now her sense of time was failing her. What would go next?
Lips pressed flat together in concentration, she reversed her turns, to take the window to its normal, Earth-linked view, and continued down the stairs. At the second floor landing, the wallpaper shimmered, the lavender and gray print darkening momentarily to give her the impression of high stone walls with an ornate silver gate, and a shadowy garden beyond the gate. The moment she stopped to look at the image there on the wall, it faded back to the abstract wallpaper pattern. Angela kept walking, and rubbed her arms against a chill that she realized a moment later didn't come from the air, but from deep inside her.
What if... What if all this that she knew here and now was a dream, and the shadowy garden was her reality?
"Don't be ridiculous," she scolded herself as she started down the stairs to the main floor. Still, it would be wise to consult friends with more knowledge and skill, and much stronger magic.
The sound of voices in muted conversation, coming from the front room of the shop, surprised her, because she sensed no other bodies in the building beyond herself and Maurice. That was another sign of how long she had been upstairs and how much time she had lost, because he had returned from his errand. Angela reached with her sense of magic, trying to determine who was here.
Definitely no other living bodies in the shop besides herself and Maurice, but there seemed to be an inordinate amount of energy vibrating around the Wishing Ball. Frowning, she stepped around the corner. Her gaze landed on the ball and she nearly laughed aloud in relief when she understood.
"Well, Asmondius, to what do we owe the pleasure?" she said as she stepped up to the counter where Maurice sat on a pile of paperbacks, facing the Wishing Ball. Asmondius Pickle stood about as tall as Maurice, inside the ball, which was doing duty as a communication globe at the moment.
"Angela. You're looking well." The Fae administrator and liaison between Divine's Emporium and the Fae government nodded, and exchanged a glance with Maurice that Angela could only describe as "meaningful."
"All right, what are the two of you up to?" She settled onto a stool behind the counter.
"Maurice asked me to check on things here, just in case all the recent unrest might have anything to do with your recent problem."
"He did?" She tipped her head to one side, fighting not to laugh or even smile when Maurice flinched and then sat up straight, meeting her gaze with an almost defiant one of his own. Angela sighed. "Thank you, Maurice. I should have thought of that myself. What's the verdict?"
"Time has been slowing down incredibly on this side of things, probably as a result of all the tension. Only a few days have passed here, compared to weeks on your side. I've only started the investigation, but right now we're still focused on tracking down the source of the chocolate that killed Queen Mellisande."
"Yeah, and I was telling him the theory Guber and Harry and some others have been tossing around, trying to help Epsi," Maurice offered.
"The reactionaries are too busy trying to place blame on the anti-royalty contingents, as well as the extremists who want to re-establish a hereditary throne. If they decide to blame the traffic between the Human and Fae realms, it could be months in our time, maybe years in yours before the decision is made to li
mit or even cancel all access between realms," Asmondius reported. "All the same, it might be wise to make contact with all the Fae you know are living in the Human realms and give them warning. Start thinking ahead to the choice they'll have to make if the door is ever shut."
"I'll do that. Thank you." Angela started making a mental list of all the Fae who had visited Divine's Emporium and Neighborlee recently, and all the Fae on Earth whom they were in contact with, who didn't come through the town. She made her farewells with Asmondius, and got up to pull out a notepad and pen, to write down all her ideas. This was something serious enough that she couldn't risk forgetting one name or connection.
"Hey, Angela?" Maurice fluttered over her shoulder as she settled down at the little wrought iron table to get to work. "What happens to Divine's if the doorways get closed?"
"I like to think there's so much magic embedded in these walls, we won't even notice for years that the air and currents from the Fae realms no longer touch us." She looked up from her list and met his gaze, and something tightened in her chest at the concern wrinkling his face. "Did you ever think that cutting access down to a bare minimum might be good for you?"
"Heck, they can cut off anything they want, as long as I'm on this side of the door with Holly." He offered a brave smile and fluttered down to stand on the table, one foot resting on the top edge of her notepad. "Will you be okay?"
"I think so. It will be interesting to see what changes, what slits into other realities close up altogether, and which ones are harder to keep closed when the...well, when the air pressure changes, so to speak."
"Yeah, there's interesting, and then there's irritating interesting. Think problems like Big Ugly might wake up again?"
"That very well could happen. And doorways we never felt before might awaken, without the calming influence of the protective spells placed on this house. All the magic could flee altogether, leaving me an ordinary woman in an ordinary shop. Who knows?"
Angela's thoughts flickered for a moment to that glimpse of gates and shadowy woods, hidden among the wallpaper on the second floor landing. Was that another world trying to break through, make contact? An illusion? Or a gate that should have been sealed for all time? With all the upheaval and disturbances in magic in the multi-realms, were the wards wearing down and threatening to let that other reality break through?
One thing at a time, she told herself, and bent her head over the list. There were many Fae who would choose to stay in the Human realms, if the easy access to the Fae Realms was narrowed down or halted altogether. She could depend on them to help her defend Divine's Emporium, to keep control over the doorways and slits into other realities and dimensions. Or at the very least, they would help her destroy the place, sealing all the openings once and for all.
* * * *
Ethan worked for two weeks on the list of leads the Von Helados gave him. Everything came up blanks, and he was relieved to be able to call them at the end of the probation period and tell them so. Something about them awakened all the caring and instincts he had put away for years, making him feel involved with the search for dim, lost Annabelle.
The problem was that he didn't want these people to find her. Ethan offered the Von Helados the option to end their contract, pay him only for the time expended, and they could go on their way to find someone else. To his surprise and disappointment, they claimed to be very pleased with what he had done so far, eliminating so many leads. They gave him another list of possibilities, more towns where they had hints of Annabelle's presence. Despite his instincts getting tangled up with unwanted emotions, Ethan took the job.
He set up a map on the big blank wall in his office and put blue pins in the places he had investigated, and green pins in the places he had to check out. Something twisted in his gut and stole his breath when he stepped back from that chore and saw a circle clearly delineated on the map. He moved in closer, eyeballing the center of the empty spot. Some place in northern Ohio, close to Lake Erie. There were many towns clustered together in that spot. Another shiver raced up his spine and made the hairs on his arms stand up as if he had been struck by lightning, when he saw John Stanzer's hometown of Neighborlee among the towns in the center of that empty circle.
Ethan put that observation aside for later, and made his plans to investigate the new set of leads and information the Von Helados gave him. That decision was taken away from him, when leads on one more missing book belonging to Stanzer's client came up. He followed them, and within two days got the book off an Internet site.
Instead of calling Stanzer to come meet him and pick up the book, Ethan listened to his gut instinct and got on a plane. He wanted to see this town, as well as the woman who owned such unusual, rare, possibly dangerous books. His curiosity wanted to know why she chose not to have insurance or a documented inventory, and not to have the police involved when her shop was broken into. Neighborlee, Ohio couldn't possibly be like the picture presented in the online bits and pieces, and Ethan wanted to know why. There had to be something odd about a town that barely appeared as a flyspeck on the map, and only seemed to exist to give the local college a mailing address.
Just before he was to get on the plane for Cleveland, the lab sent back the report on the coin Mrs. Von Helado gave him. It was silver. The discoloration was partly blood, partly an alchemist's warehouse of herbs. There were no poisons or electronic devices embedded in the coin or the chain of onyx beads, but the lab did report low-level radiation that grew weaker with time. The experts felt the radiation was so low-level, it should cause no harm or make any noticeable changes in the wearer over the long term.
Chapter Six
Ethan's mind stumbled over the "should" part. Low-level radiation? He dismissed the images that sprang to mind, fed by B-grade movies. Gut instinct made him check the sky--nearly full moon--and check the phases of the moon on his calendar--waxing to full. He wondered if the radiation would grow stronger as the moon waned again.
"You're going bonkers," he scolded himself. Ethan had no idea where he got the notion of the talisman's power being linked to the moon. And when, exactly, had he begun thinking of it as a "talisman"?
Maybe he was losing his mind. But on the plus side, for two weeks, he hadn't dreamed of the angel who had shriveled to dust in his arms. Ethan knew he was better off without dreams.
So why did he feel more tired and less satisfied every morning he woke up without any dreams behind him?
When he got to Neighborlee, Ethan took a room in a small bed & breakfast on the edge of town and set about getting to know the place, the rhythm and heart. He strolled around town for two days, getting the feel of the town and letting the locals get used to his presence. Just like hunting in the forest, all he would get was silence until he gained acceptance and made a place for himself in the environment. He talked to the shop owners, the librarian, and the rangers on patrol in the park. He walked around the campus of Willis-Brooks College, watched the baseball and soccer teams practice, and admired the Century homes and lush lawns and gardens.
Late afternoon of the second day, he saw the sign for a private investigator's office in the front window of a six-story building on Long Street. Stanzer's office. He felt a pang of envy, seeing the old-fashioned building, the perfect, picturesque location, and wished he had been there first and thought to settle and open his own office. Right there.
Ethan was carrying the stolen book with him, just to prevent it being stolen again, so he had no excuse to delay the reckoning. He walked up to the recessed doorway and stepped inside. The door was propped open and a fan helped circulate the warm summer air. He used to dream of having a place like this. Old-fashioned, shadowy, relaxed, like in the movies.
"Can I help you with something?" a man asked out of the shadows, and a moment later John Stanzer stepped through the connecting door from the next room. Then he stopped short and laughed. The welcome on his face as he stepped forward again, holding out a hand, made Ethan feel a little guilty, a little
uncomfortable, and yet strangely glad.
"Nice place," Ethan said after he handed over the book and they settled down at Stanzer's desk with bottles of iced tea. "I envy you. Been walking around, getting the feeling of the town. You have the perfect setup. If it wasn't so quiet, so pretty, I'd be tempted."
"You mean moving to Neighborlee?" Stanzer nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on his face. "There's more action around here than you'd think."
"Looks are deceiving?" Ethan felt his interest perk up. Nothing like talking shop.
"Neighborlee is a great place. It's the surrounding towns that keep me busy."
They talked for maybe twenty minutes, slipping into the easy semi-familiarity that only came from a deep well of common experience. Quirky cases, changes in the law, cooperation or the lack of it from local law enforcement, guns, and changes brought by technology.
Ethan was pleased to see Stanzer used some of the same methods he did--including big maps on the wall with pins, notes and pictures tacked up to try to get the bigger picture. It reminded him of the Von Helado case, which he had gladly put on hold for a few days to tend to the stolen book.
"Tell me your take on this. I have these clients, looking for a missing relative. The leads they've given me are all over the place, from one coast to another. Except when you make a map and mark all the spots, what isn't included in the hunt is really obvious." He gestured with his bottle of tea at the map on Stanzer's wall. "There's a great big gaping hole where they either don't have any information, or maybe they don't want anyone to look. And at a rough guess, this town is pretty near the center of where I shouldn't be looking. Makes me wonder..."
"Like maybe there's something about this town?" Stanzer offered a breathy chuckle. "There's a lot about this town, but if you don't have the right mindset, it can drive you nuts. Maybe I can help, since this is my home territory. Anything odd about this missing person? Anything to start from?"
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