Broken Dreams (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 5)

by D. W. Moneypenny

  * * *

  Once they were all gathered in the hotel room where Ping and Sam had stayed for the past several days, Dr. Lantern took the medical bag from his son and sat on the edge of the bed next to Abby, who was asleep. Slipping out a stethoscope, he placed it onto her chest, and her eyes fluttered open.

  She blinked a couple times, trying to wake up, and she frowned at the doctor. Pushing up on an elbow, she said, “Dr. Lantern? What are you doing here?”

  He shot a look of confusion at Sam, who shrugged and held up his hands. Turning back to Abby, he said, “Do you know who I am?”

  “You’re Mara’s dad,” she said. Her gaze flitted around the room. When it settled on Ping, her eyes widened, and she pushed against the mattress, as if sliding herself away from him. “Dragon,” she said so softly that Dr. Lantern wasn’t sure he had heard her.

  “What did you say?”

  Abby’s bottom lip trembled. “I saw him turn into a dragon. Before that thing got inside me.” She grabbed at Dr. Lantern’s shirt, tearing the material around a button. “The monster made me do terrible, terrible things. I killed people, hundreds, thousands of people.” She shivered, grabbed another handful of shirt and pulled herself toward Dr. Lantern’s chest.

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. “Shhh. It’s all over now. I will not let anyone hurt you.” He rocked her back and forth for several minutes until he felt her relax and heard her snore softly. He laid her on the bed and pulled up the blanket that lay across her legs. His stethoscope fell as he stepped away from the bed. While folding it up and slipping it into his bag, he glanced at Sam and Ping, and nodded toward the door without saying anything.

  The three of them slipped from the room. After Dr. Lantern closed the door with a soft click, he turned around and said, “That young lady is suffering from more than simple shock. She had some kind of mental trauma that has caused her to become delusional.”

  “I agree that she has suffered a profound mental trauma, but she is not delusional,” Ping said.

  Dr. Lantern raised an eyebrow, reminding Ping of Mara when she doubted something. “Dragons? And how could she kill thousands of people?”

  “She’s not responsible for those deaths, but it’s likely she took part in them, compelled by a creature that had merged its Consciousness with her own. In essence, she was possessed by a being of almost indescribable evil.”

  Sam interjected, “And she did see Ping turn into a dragon. That wasn’t a delusion. I’ve seen it several times myself.”

  Dr. Lantern eyed Ping. “You’re a dragon? You believe that?”

  Ping shook his head and looked embarrassed. “I was never a dragon per se. My Consciousness became entangled with that of a dragon for a short time, but that situation has been resolved, so there is no longer a threat.”

  “She was my daughter from another realm,” Sam said.

  Dr. Lantern looked at him blankly. “Who was your daughter?”

  “The dragon.”

  “The dragon was your daughter?”

  “Yes,” Sam said. “We didn’t know it at the time—when she was possessing Ping—but when my daughter from the future touched the dragon, the whole thing made sense.”

  “I think that is a story you should share with your father when we aren’t standing in a hotel corridor,” Ping said. “Besides, considering the look on his face, it appears he thinks we are the ones who are delusional.”

  Dr. Lantern said, “I’m still wrapping my brain around the concept that my granddaughter is a dragon—and that Sam here has a daughter.”

  CHAPTER 17

  “I think it best If I ride in the back of the wagon, so I can keep an eye on Abby,” Dr. Lantern said.

  Ping and Sam agreed.

  Dr. Lantern nodded toward Abby, asleep on a straw mattress. “At least I don’t remind her of dragons or something that wanted to possess her.”

  Sam held the reins and guided Belle along the dirt road toward the manor while Ping sat next to him, watching the countryside as it crawled past. The clomping of horse hooves, the creaking of floorboards and the rasping of wheels over hard dirt created enough background noise that Sam and Ping could talk without being overheard by Dr. Lantern.

  Ping smiled at Sam and said, “Considering how resistant you were to entering the receptacle, this experience has turned out to be quite a compelling one. Wouldn’t you say?”

  “I do like steering the horse,” Sam said.

  “I was referring to meeting your father. You had hoped for that back in our realm,” Ping said. “What do you think?”

  “I think he’s kind of cool. Smart. There is something I wanted to ask you about though. It had never occurred to me to ask about it before,” Sam said.

  “What is it?”

  “When Hannah came back from the future, she was a prompter, like me. You think that runs in families? Is that true?”

  “I don’t know if being a prompter is inherited, if there is a gene passed down from father or mother to child. However, as with all metaphysical abilities, knowledge, awareness and belief are required for them to work. A parent with those attributes is better equipped to pass the abilities along. Wouldn’t you say?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Something I saw my dad do while he was with his patient. I’m sure he prompted her to get better. Does that make sense to you?”

  “Actually it makes perfect sense. Hannah did something similar after she arrived in our realm. She prompted me to cure myself after an assault by the Aphotis,” Ping said. “You witnessed your father do something similar?”

  “Yes, but not exactly. See, he told me that almost all injury and illness in this realm is in their heads, that people here only get sick when they think they are sick.”

  Ping nodded. “That makes sense, considering this realm is constructed of their thoughts.”

  “Right. But, when he couldn’t convince his patient to change her thoughts, he prompted her to do it, just like I would. The big difference was that the woman changed physically. Her symptoms disappeared instantly.”

  “Yes. What’s your point?”

  “If this realm is made of thought, dreams or whatever, wouldn’t a prompter be able to change it—any of it—just like any other thought?” he asked.

  “I suppose theoretically that’s possible. It merits investigation.”

  They fell into silence as they crossed a wooden bridge that took them over a dry creek bed.

  As they exited the bridge, Sam reached up and plucked a leaf from a low-hanging tree. He held it out to Ping. “It’s hard to believe this is nothing but thought,” he said. He curled his fingers over the leaf into a loose fist. Staring down at his closed hand, his eyes narrowed. I wonder. He opened his hand, releasing an orange butterfly. The leaf was gone. He glanced at Ping, who stared back at him, astonished.

  “Swarm!” Dr. Lantern yelled from the back of the wagon, which now lurched as he struggled to his feet. He pointed to a dark cloud that shifted in the air but not with the breeze or the sway of nearby trees. Fifty feet above and less than one-quarter mile behind them, the black swarm rolled toward them, gaining speed as it approached.

  Ping turned around on the wagon bench and gasped. He elbowed Sam and said, “Pull over. We’ve got company.”

  Sam tugged on the reins, and the wagon stopped in the middle of the road. Ping jumped to the ground and ran to the back.

  “That must be the swarm that Janette and Mrs. Clancy saw this morning back in town,” Dr. Lantern said as he jumped down next to Ping. “No wonder they got so worked up about it. I’ve seen nothing like it.”

  “That’s no swarm,” Ping said.

  Sam walked up beside him and said, “Is that what I think it is?”

  “It’s the Aphotis. And it’s headed right for us,” Ping said.

  Dr. Lantern looked at Ping. “It’s a what?”

  The cloud of black mist dove from the sky in a stream, as if p
ouring through an invisible funnel pointed at the bed of the open wagon.

  “It’s after Abby. We’ve got to stop it or it may repossess her,” Ping said. He scampered into the back of the wagon and rolled over Abby, shielding her body with his.

  Beneath him Abby awakened and screamed when the blackness flowed from the sky, over Ping’s back and into her face. She gagged and kicked at the sideboards of the wagon.

  Dr. Lantern grabbed the side of the wagon, about to hoist himself up, when Sam caught his arm and said, “Wait. I think Ping is helping her.”

  A burst of gray ash spewed from the wagon and spun in the air above, swirling like a small tornado, dancing over the bed of the wagon, whipping up a wind very out of place in the sunny still afternoon. The whinny of a horse cut through the noise, and the wagon jerked forward a few feet, but Belle didn’t bolt.

  The gray funnel cloud drew in the black mist, sucked it up, pulling it away from Abby and the wagon. Then the gray wind moved to the far side of the road below a large oak tree, where it lost cohesion and spilled to the road, a writhing mass of black and gray, kicking up another cloud of brown dirt. Part of it morphed into the undulating prone silhouette of a man fighting to maintain its shape.

  Sam ran up to it and said, “Ping!”

  The form on the ground solidified into Ping, but a black slickness crawled and shifted over his skin, flowing into his eyes, nostrils and mouth. He gagged and groaned. His body stiffened and spasmed as if shocked.

  The black mist released Ping by exploding a haze of black particles that hung suspended around him. When it moved again, it coalesced into a cloud ten feet above Ping’s motionless body.

  Sam sensed the thing was gathering its strength for another attack and picked up a baseball-size stone. He threw it at the center of the black cloud, and, as it flew toward it, he focused on the stone. He prompted it. And it burst into flames, glowing like embers, trailing a tail of flame. As it entered the misty cloud, the stone exploded, and the mist evaporated in a shower of orange sparks.

  Sam ran closer to Ping, who still appeared to be inert. “Ping! Are you all right?”

  Ping shifted on the ground and awakened with a start, slapping his hand onto the dirt road, sending up a cloud of brown dust. “Oh, that was terrible, just terrible.”

  Sam helped him to his feet. “It was the Aphotis. Right?”

  “Without a doubt, but it seems unable to possess people in this realm,” Ping said. “I sensed it trying to take me, but it couldn’t. I saw it do the same thing earlier to another man. It assaulted him, but it could not meld with his Consciousness.”

  “Maybe because people here are made of thought, not Consciousness,” Sam said.

  “Perhaps, and it may be the reason it could not maintain its grip on Abby in this realm. Entering the receptacle and coming to this realm separated them.”

  “Well, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about it anymore. That rock I threw fried it pretty good. We may have seen the last of the Aphotis.”

  “I hope you’re right, but forgive me if I don’t let down my guard for a while. Somehow I doubt that a creature with the metaphysical prowess of the Aphotis would be dispatched so easily.”

  Dr. Lantern called to them from the back of the wagon, where he now held a dazed Abby. “If the two of you are uninjured, please check on Belle to make sure she isn’t hurt, and let’s get back to the manor.”

  CHAPTER 18

  The blue light of the tunnel receded, and Mara and Ping found themselves standing in the laboratory where they had started. Looking at the hand that held the Chronicle of Cosms when they were inside the steam sample, Mara noticed it was now empty. The copper eyepiece rested in its stand, pointing at the plastic sample globe, at the steam they had examined—and had experienced.

  “The more I think about it, the more that feels like being sucked through some kind of a straw,” Mara said. “I’m not liking it too much. Seems like a lot of trouble to go through just to fine-tune Reality.”

  “I admit it is somewhat disturbing,” Ping said. “Though I must thank you for the once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

  Mara had already turned toward the counter and leaned over the mounted eyepiece. Plucking the sample container from the turntable, she held it up and stared through the transparent ball. “It looks like plain steam from this perspective. I was hoping it would glow like some of the samples in the alcoves,” she said, glancing at the large cylinders of colorful steam that lined the laboratory walls.

  “You shouldn’t be too disappointed. It may not look like much, but I suspect the properties of this particular sample will end up being quite impressive. We just need to find a practical application for it,” Ping said.

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” she said.

  He held out his hand for the sample container, and she handed it over. Then he changed his mind and returned it. Looking around, he spotted a coffee mug on the circular counter some distance away and retrieved it, stopping to pick up a beaker of red liquid on his way back. He placed both on the counter before Mara and took the sample container from her again.

  Placing his thumb on one of the raised buttons at the top of the sample globe, he held it sideways with the button on the bottom exposed between his index and middle finger—like a nurse might hold a hypodermic needle. He held it up to her, pointed to the buttons, and said, “You see, the top one is a button, and the bottom one is actually an aperture. Understand?”

  Mara nodded.

  He pointed the transparent container at the coffee mug and pressed the button. It emitted a jet of steam he directed along the edges of the mug, where it lingered for a moment before dissipating. The mug disappeared. No, it grew transparent. It looked made of glass.

  Mara gasped. Lowering her face to counter level, she examined it and said, “That is so cool.” She thought about it for a minute. “Well, we could have made the mug from glass instead of ceramics. I guess it’s not so cool.”

  Ping poured the red liquid into the mug. “You were correct the first time. It is very cool. I think when my Mara gets back, she will be impressed. I’m sure there are a few applications for this steam.”

  “Like what?”

  “Say you wanted to build a load-bearing wall but wanted it to be transparent. You could build it with brick or steel or any other strong material, even titanium. After it’s built, you just spritz it with this transparasteam—and voilà!—you’ve got a clear wall. You couldn’t do that with glass.”

  “Not as cool as datasteam, but I guess it’s not bad for my first day in the lab.” She smiled as Ping returned the sample container.

  “Be careful with that. You don’t want to make yourself transparent again.”

  A thunderous knock came at the door that made Ping jump. He looked somewhat confused once he gathered himself.

  “What’s wrong?” Mara asked.

  “I’ve never heard someone knock on the laboratory door before. Mara and I are the only people who come in here, and we don’t allow visitors to roam the manor unescorted.”

  “Would you like me to answer it?”

  “No, I’ll get it.” He hurried through the open section of counter to the door. Opening it a crack, he peeked out and slammed it closed again. “Oh, my God!”

  Mara ran over to him and said, “Who is it?”

  Blanching, he said, “It’s me.”

  Through the door she heard Sam. “Mara? Are you guys in there? Let us in!”

  Ping stared back at her, frightened. “What should I do?”

  Mara rolled her eyes. “Let them in. He won’t bite you. He’s you after all—another version of you, but still you.”

  Looking unsure, he nodded and turned back to the door.

  “But, whatever you do, don’t touch him—the other Ping, I mean.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll explain later, but no shaking hands or anything like that. Got it?”

  “I think.”

  She waved at the door. �
��Open it.”

  He turned the knob, and the door almost hit him in the nose when Sam pushed through. “Jeez, what is taking so long in here? Ping, meet Ping.” He pushed open the second door so that both were now open, and Ping—their Ping—stood in the center of the entryway, smiling self-consciously at his counterpart inside the laboratory.

  “Whoa! Look at this place. Sorta puts your little gadget shop to shame. Doesn’t it, sis?” Sam said, sauntering in, craning his neck as he walked past the raised section of counter into the center work area. “Now this is how a progenitor should live.”

  “Don’t touch anything,” Mara said as he approached. “Things in here can actually explode, and I’m sure my counterpart would like to get her laboratory back with as few blast marks as possible.” Her gaze slid from her brother to the Pings at the door. “Speaking of counterparts …”

  The Ping from this realm nodded at his counterpart, extended his hand from habit, blushed and retracted it when Ping pulled back. “Sorry. I’m a little discombobulated at the moment. I’ve never …”

  “Nor have I. It will take some getting used to—for both of us,” Ping said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. May I come in?”

  “Oh, of course. Mara and I just finished up a little experiment, a demonstration of the technology her counterpart uses to enhance the lives of people in this realm.”

  Ping scanned the room. “It looks absolutely fascinating.” After giving the room the once-over, his gaze rested on Mara. “It’s wonderful to see you. Thanks for coming to help.”

  “Always glad to serve,” Mara said, smiling. She looked past Ping’s shoulder and asked, “Did Abby come with you?”

  Ping nodded. “She’s upstairs with your father.”

  Mara stepped toward the door. “How is she? Sam said she was out of it. Is there any sign of the Aphotis?”

  Ping put a hand on her arm and said, “She is no longer possessed by the Aphotis. Your father is giving her a thorough examination and then giving her a sedative. It might be best to let her sleep through the night. I’m sure she’ll be in better shape to talk in the morning,” Ping said.