The Dimension Weaver (Alice the Fallen Mystery Book 2)

by K. H. Pope

  “That’s not good enough, Inspector Renald.”

  “I don’t dish out the punishment, Alice. I simply find the evidence, bring in the offenders, and the Magi Elite International Judiciary Division handles the judgement and the sentencing.”

  “You’re not getting the traps, and that’s final.”

  “They really don’t belong to you.”

  “They don’t belong to you, either,” I counter.

  “This is your last chance. Give me the traps, or I will come back with more than you can handle.”

  “Do whatever it is you feel like you have to do, and I will do the same,” I calmly remark.

  “It’s going to be a real shame when we put you down.”

  Inspector Renald puts on his hat and turns on his heels to leave. I’m surprised by his normal exit. No magical disappearing act? Obviously, this guy doesn’t want me to see his abilities. That’s a bad thing. I don’t know what he’s capable of.

  “It’s official,” Tip says. “You have just made the Magi Elite your enemy.”

  “They were always my enemy.” I grab all of the paperwork and the book.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m leaving. I don’t want you to get hurt, and I don’t want them to destroy your house.”

  “Take a look around,” he remarks. “It’s already destroyed. Why not just give him the pictures? It doesn’t make a difference if you have them or not. You find the guy or gal, you make him or her break the spell or kill them, and they’re freed. They don’t have to be in the same place, Alice.”

  “Killing the dimension weaver won’t free Vanessa or her boyfriend. Dr. Morrow told me so himself. And I’m keeping the trap. Inspector Renald can stick his thumb up his butt and whatever you said-”

  “No, it’s stick his finger in his butt and call a lawyer while he’s at it.”

  “Yeah, that.” I shake my head. “Gross.”

  Tip starts laughing. I head for the bedroom. I have to get out of there before that cop returns.

  “I’m going with you,” Tip says as he tries to stop me.

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Tip, just stay here, and I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Wait-”

  “I’m sorry. My decision is final.”

  “You’re so stubborn, Alice.”

  “Just call me if you find a common denominator between the victims, and find out if a Folly Whitcomb ever had an apprentice. Actually, find out if any of those wizards in the asylum and Dr. Morrow had apprentices.”

  “Alice.”

  I place my hand on his arm as a good-bye, and I make my exit. Honestly, I am very scared for myself, and I’ll be more scared for Tip if he’s with me. It’s all too much, and I must deal with this case alone.

  CHAPTER 29

  Adam said that Geoffrey visited the Nottowon Museum, and that’s where I’m headed. I look at the clock on the dash of the truck. It’s only 3:30 P.M. I wonder what time the museum closes. I use my cell phone to find the address. It’s a half hour away in good traffic, and there are none. The streets are empty in Dumas, too. The museum closes at 8:00 P.M. I hope it’s still open considering the looming threat. Maybe, I’ll be able to sense something that relates to Geoffrey.

  When I get there, I’m surprised to see how big the structure is. It’s a marble building with three levels. A gently rising wide staircase leads up to the top landing that has four evenly spaced columns. I enter through the front doors, and instantly, I feel the pride and great love in this place. There’s also an abundance of positive energy emitting from every piece of artistic and literary artifact.

  The great hall entrance has displays of tools and weapons from the Nottowon Tribe and drawings that recite their history. Intricate handmade tapestries hang from the ceilings.

  This museum holds more than the history of a people. It is life to those that visit. It is a lesson of the mind and spirit. I visit each exhibit in the great hall and read the descriptions for each piece. I can see hands carving out the tools, shaping the bowls, and sewing the garments. I can hear children laughing, and the haunting sounds of the tribal dance. Babies are being born. The elderly speaking of the greatest lessons to be learned. Every moment of life is a celebration, all happening eons ago. Each piece gives off visions of the individual or individuals that touched them. For a normal human being, this place might be simply fascinating. For me, it is a reliving of the past with the sounds, the smells, and the sights of the Nottowon Tribe.

  After doing my impromptu tour, I go upstairs to the second floor, where the library is located. There’s a lot less supernatural activity up here. I have a feeling the books keep the room calm.

  The computers are in a back area behind numerous rows of shelves. There are only four cubicles. I place all of my things on the desk in the far corner.

  I turn on the computer, and while it’s booting up, I touch the black book. There’s an odd shape on the cover, embedded with gold thread and no hard corners. It’s not in a circle, either. I don’t know what the symbol means. I open it, hoping to find answers instead of more questions. There are 20 to 30 pages, and they are water-stained and stiff. The title is written in hieroglyphs encased in blocks. I know a lot of languages, but I don’t know what those symbols mean.

  The next page has more. I have a feeling they’re words formed into a prose. The other pages reveal the same. More symbols in black squares, but the symbols inside the boxes are different for every page. Six pages are like this, and the rest of the book is blank. I know this book is important, but the significance is beyond my comprehension. I have to find someone who understands it.

  I turn my attention to the computer. I select the internet browser icon and find a search engine webpage. I want to find information about the party Adam mentioned. So, I type in: Full Moon Party Dumas, Texas.

  I know it’s a shot in the dark, but I hope it hits something. The search comes up with links that leads to online articles, videos, and pictures of full moons. There’s also links that goes to Dumas Welcome Page. I keep going through pages of the search engine, reading each summary as I go.

  When I reach the tenth page, the summary under the link title 2019 Full Moon Schedule catches my attention. There’s a date of the last full moon. It was on Thursday, December 12, 2019. That’s the very same day that Vanessa was last seen. I click on the link. The page background is a night sky with stars and the full moon in one corner. The font is bold and yellow. There is a complete list for full moon events. I bring out the police report for Geoffrey Campana. He was reported missing on Thursday, March 21, 2019. According to the website, there was a full moon that evening. Taylor Eason disappeared on June 9, 2017. That was a full moon evening, too. Jessica Walter on September 2, 2014. Full moon happened that night. I continue through the pile of reports, typing in dates from each missing person. They all match evenings of full moons. Okay, I found a common denominator, but what does it really mean?

  Adam said that Geoffrey went to a party that evening. What was the name of that party? I delete my search criteria, and I put in: Party, Masks, Dumas, Texas December 12, 2019.

  The list of links with their summaries doesn’t tell me much. I decide to click on some of them and see what comes up. Some webpages have articles about Dumas and upcoming parties, but the last one I click on right before I’m about to give up, shows pictures of a party in the desert. People are wearing brightly colored masks, but then the webpage goes dark and a login window pops up. It doesn’t stay up for long. The internet browser closes out automatically. I get right back on and type in the webpage address. This time I only get a white page with no login window. I must be on the right track. Someone is blocking the flow of information on purpose.

  I look at the book. Since I’m hitting a dead end, I decide to talk to a real human being. Maybe, someone in the library is a native Nottowon and can translate the book. I turn off the computer, gather my things, and I go to the
circulation desk in front of the elevators.

  An elderly woman is about to walk away with two books in her hand, but she sets them aside to give me her full attention.

  “I was wondering if you can help me,” I remark.

  “Alright,” she says with a smile.

  She reminds me of the bellhop back in Paris.

  “I was wondering if you could translate something for me.”

  “What do you have?”

  I show her the book, and her smile instantly disappears. She’s staring at me in confusion, but then the confusion fades to anger.

  “What are you doing with that book?” She’s agitated.

  I clutch it close to my chest, thinking she’ll try to take it.

  “How did you get it?” she asks.

  “Can you just tell me what this book is about?” I ask.

  “You should know! Where is she? Is she here?” The woman shifts side to side, looking for someone.

  “Is who here?” I ask while looking over my shoulder.

  “Get out,” she demands. “Leave at once and take it with you! Do not come back to this museum! If you do, I will call the police!”

  Not the reaction I thought I would get. I rush off to the stairs and out the building, making it to my truck in no time. With no real destination in mind, I head back to the back of the abandoned mall.

  Reality starts to hit me as I pull in at the farthest spot away from the building. I’m seriously working against time. Inspector Renald and his backup are probably suiting up for the chase. More than likely, Chief Lacey knows I’m the one that stole the book and hurt the mayor in the process. The librarian will tell Dumas Police that I was in the museum asking questions, also. I’m real nervous. Things do not look good for me.

  My next best idea is to call Priscilla Oliver. I’m hoping with her connections in the Magi Elite she’ll be able to find someone who can translate the book. I just hope she doesn’t snitch to her dad. Or perhaps, I should call Ammon. No, I’ll contact Priscilla. I can’t trust him. Ammon called Inspector Renald. Then again, I can’t trust her. I’m literally stuck, and I need to keep this investigation going. John and the others are depending on me. Priscilla, I hope she does me right.

  CHAPTER 30

  “Alice, I’m glad you called,” Ammon answers.

  Not who I wanted to speak to. I ask, “Where is Priscilla?”

  “Alice, I want you to listen to me for a minute.”

  “I don’t want to hear it. I just want to speak to Priscilla.”

  “It is 11:30 in the evening here in Hamburg. She’s not here.”

  “Fine, then I guess you’ll have to do for now. Do you know a linguist?”

  “Do I know a linguist?”

  “Yes, Ammon, a polyglot.”

  “I do. Why?”

  “I have something that needs translation.”

  “Why didn’t you cooperate with Inspector Renald?”

  Changing the subject makes me angrier, but I answer him, anyway. “Because like I said before, I am handling this on my own, and I don’t trust the Magi Elite.”

  “Alice, why won’t you just give up the evidence?”

  “Because President Oliver will only cover it up, and he’s only after what’s left of my wings.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “He offered me millions in tax free points, Ammon. Those missing people were never a real concern to him, and as for John, I don’t even remember if he talked about him at all.”

  “Alice-”

  “I’m telling you he doesn’t care, and he will cover it up.”

  I can hear him sigh. He doesn’t believe me.

  I’ve said all I’m going to say on that matter. I go back to my first question. “Are you going to tell me where I can find a linguist?”

  “There’s something I have to tell you.”

  I sigh impatiently.

  “President Oliver plans on speaking to the District Attorney about filing murder charges against you for killing John and-”

  “John is dead!”

  “The body has not been found, Alice.”

  “So, what is the point of filing murder charges with no body?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

  “I bet if I hand him my wing stumps, he’ll drop the charges.”

  Ammon doesn’t answer.

  “Let him charge me,” I reply. “I don’t care. I just want to know if you’re going to help me.”

  “I can’t. I don’t want to lose my position in the Magi Elite.”

  “You have no loyalty,” I say with disappointment.

  “That’s not fair, Alice. I would do all I could to help you, but I stand to lose a lot here. I’ve worked hard for a very long time to gain the position I have. I don’t want to throw it away.”

  “Okay,” I remark. “That’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine. I can hear it in your voice.”

  “I have to go. I’m done with you.”

  “Wait-”

  “Oh, before I go, there is one more thing, Ammon. Stop telling President Oliver where I am and where I go.”

  “I haven’t told him anything.”

  “Well, let me put it this way. If any Magi Elite members visit me on behalf of President Oliver, I will not hesitate to hurt them.”

  “Alice, you don’t mean that.”

  “Yes, I do. Inspector Renald threatened to bring all of his cop friends to take what I have. I’m not going to let that happen.”

  “Alice, just calm down. The Mag-”

  I disconnect the call. I can’t take it any longer. They’re worthless, the whole lot of them, and Ammon is no different. So much for friendship and loyalty.

  CHAPTER 31

  Ammon looks at his phone, thinking about what Alice has told him. He knows that she has no reason to lie. Everything she said seemed to fit. President Oliver’s need for the wing stumps goes right along with his pursuit of keeping his power in the Magi Elite.

  “Well, I can tell that conversation didn’t work out in your favor,” Inspector Renald remarks as he leans against the fireplace mantle. “We might have to kill her.”

  “She’s a fallen angel,” President Oliver replies. “She can’t be killed.” He’s sitting comfortably in a high back Victorian style chair near the picturesque window in Ammon’s parlor.

  “What happens if you cut off her head?” Inspector Renald asks.

  “You will not do that to her,” Ammon says.

  “Whose side are you on?” Inspector Renald asks as he straightens his stance.

  “You will not touch her!”

  “Gentlemen,” President Oliver chimes in. “We are on the same team. We are wizards, and that woman should not come between us. She is an outsider, a nuisance, and a virus.” President Oliver stands and adjusts his jacket. “I want her arrested. Did she say exactly where she was in Dumas?”

  “No, Mr. President,” Ammon answers.

  “I have a tracker on standby,” Inspector Renald says. “Do you have something that belongs to her?”

  Ammon shakes his head as an answer.

  “Didn’t she stay here for over a week?” Inspector Renald asks. “She must have left something behind. Where did she sleep?”

  President Oliver notices that Ammon isn’t going to come forth with an answer and says, “Show the inspector the room, or I’ll take your silent refusal the wrong way. I’m sure you don’t want me to think you’re not on our side. Remember, your position as a senator is on a trial basis, and I can relieve you at any time I wish.”

  Ammon goes over to the phone and rings the butler. The gentleman answers the phone, and Ammon instructs him to show his guest where Alice stayed. The butler appears immediately, standing tall, chin up, shoulders squared, right beside Ammon.

  “Mr. Aleshire, afford Inspector Renald any request he makes,” Ammon remarks.

  The butler nods. The Inspector brings out his cell phone as he follows Mr. Aleshire out the door.

  Pr
esident Oliver says, “If you hear from her again, I expect you to keep me and Inspector Renald informed.”

  “Of course, but one thing before you leave, Mr. President. Alice says that you want the remains of her wings. Is there a reason why?”

  Without answering, President Oliver simply disappears. His action says it all. Ammon starts thinking. He’s never truly had a reason not to trust President Oliver before, but he clearly sees what Alice was talking about now. The President does want her wing stumps, and he has a hidden agenda behind it.

  Ammon takes out his cell phone from his inside breast jacket pocket and selects number one.

  Priscilla answers, “Yes, Ammon.”

  “Contact Professor Gaël Babineaux.”

  “The polyglot? At this time of night?” she asks.

  “Yes, and get the professor to Alice as soon as possible. Tell him that it is of utmost importance and give him my name. He will go with you.”

  “Okay,” she remarks.

  “If your father asks what you’re doing, I’m hoping you will not say a word to him.”

  “I won’t. You have my word, Ammon.”

  “They are after Alice. So, use my private transfer chamber, the one that’s not monitored.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you, Priscilla.” He disconnects the call and leaves the parlor.

  Ammon is anxious to see if Inspector Renald finds something that will lead to Alice. He disappears from the parlor and appears seconds later in the room Inspector Renald was taken to.

  Mr. Aleshire is standing right next to the door. Inspector Renald is watching a dark haired woman, who is standing at the foot of the bed. She has her back to everyone, and her fingers are touching the comforter.

  “Thank you, Mr. Aleshire,” Ammon says.

  The butler disappears from the room without saying a word.

  “Who is that?” Ammon asks while lightly brushing up against the back of Inspector Renald’s jacket.

  “Willa Harlow,” Inspector Renald answers. “She’s the tracker.”

  “Has she ever tracked a fallen angel?” Ammon asks.