The Dimension Weaver (Alice the Fallen Mystery Book 2)

by K. H. Pope

  “So, what do you mean by them being chosen because of their lineage, desires, and state of minds?”

  “Their ancestors are here. Their desires are something that they’ve always wanted but have not been able to get on their own. Their state of minds? Well, they are not strong-willed. They can be easily controlled.”

  That makes perfect sense...somewhat, but it doesn’t tell me who put them in the dimension traps. The mind control thing makes me think of Chief Lacey again. It has to be him who did this. I haven’t come upon anyone else who really fits the bill.

  “Why are they put in the traps in the first place?” I ask.

  “Because they didn’t meet their end of the bargain. The witch gives them whatever they want. A car, a ring, money, fame, and they better get her the one object she wants in return. If they don’t, they become prisoners of her dimension traps.”

  “A witch?” I ask in confusion. “It’s not a wizard putting those people in traps?”

  “Oh no,” he answers. “A witch is doing this.”

  “So, what is it that she wants in return?”

  “A meteorite.”

  I give him a confused look.

  “Yes, Alice, a meteorite. It crashed here on our reservation hundreds of years ago. It’s just out there on our land, unmarked, no monument. She sent all of those people into the reservation, but none of them have been able to find it.”

  “Who is she, Chief Natrik?” I ask, holding my breath.

  “I call her the witch, but those that know her well calls her Heather Ostberg Freland.”

  “The mayor’s wife,” I remark.

  Chief Natrik nods and says, “That is her.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Because I’ve seen her say the spell right out there beyond our borders. She does it every time someone comes back without the meteorite.”

  “What’s so special about it?”

  “It has the elemental powers of the Earth and the Moon, and my people have bestowed power onto it throughout the time it has been out there. In return, that meteorite nourishes our land and takes care of us. That’s why you see grass growing and flowers blooming in hundred degree heat. We have several fields of crops south of here almost ready for harvest. Can you imagine what that kind of power can do for a single individual, and it provides for a tribal nation of hundreds every single day. We have never gone without since its arrival.”

  I’m just amazed by this. I look out to the area beyond the houses, wondering if it is visible from my perch while standing.

  Chief Natrik remarks, “The witch has wanted it for years, and she sends in people she thinks can get it for her.”

  “Why won’t she come onto the reservation herself?”

  “Because the land will take her life.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “If a supernatural person comes to this land to cause harm to one of our own, or to steal what does not belong to them, they will die the moment they touch ground.”

  “The people that are missing, they entered the land. Why aren’t they dead? They were trying to take the meteorite, and they’re supernatural.”

  “They are dormant, quiescent. As long as they never practiced their talents, they are regular human beings. The land will not harm them.”

  “But they were trying to take something that didn’t belong to them.”

  “Only confusion will set into the minds of regular humans and unpracticed witches. They will wander around, thinking they see it, but they don’t. Eventually, they leave with what looks like the meteorite, but as soon as they step off the reservation, they will discover a simple rock is all they have.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “The witch and her father have been sending in people for years.”

  “They’ve never given up.”

  “Never,” he says. “Her father, Whitcomb, was obsessed. He was the mayor of Dumas at one time, but his insanity over the meteorite only lead to him being fired, in a sense. He would camp out there for days, for weeks. He’d leave for a day or two, but then he would return, camping out once more for an extended amount of time. He died outside of our borders. Heather doesn’t spend most of her time out there like her father used to, but still, she refuses to stop the search. She has strange ceremonies or parties out there during the full moon. They wear masks and costumes. That woman is quite bizarre.”

  That bit of information falls in line with what Adam told me. “So, she’s sending tribal members that don’t live here to the reservation to search for the meteorite. When they come back out with the wrong thing, she puts them in dimension traps.”

  “Exactly, just as I said. That’s quite a strange ceremony, also.”

  “And they cross over because she’s given them something? They owe her in a sense?”

  He nods while puffing on his pipe.

  “Chief Natrik, I want to talk about the book. I know you said that it’s not important, but it had symbols that I believe might be written in your language. I don’t have it to show you, but every time someone looked at it, the symbols changed.”

  He chuckles and says, “That book was meant to be a joke for the witch.”

  “A joke?”

  “I left it out there over a year ago. One of the people she sent in brought it back to her, and she thought it was part of finding the meteorite. I made it so that only the quiescent ones can read the symbols, but the directions in there lead to nowhere. They don’t know that, of course.”

  “I really thought that book was important.”

  “It has a lot of people fooled,” he answers with a chuckle. “Practical joke. My favorite along with clichés.”

  “How often does she bring people to search for the meteorite?”

  “Only during a full moon on a clear night,” he says. “The meteorite can only be seen during that time, but I made getting to it impossible with the curse and the book.”

  “How did she find out about being able to see it during a full moon?”

  “Her and her father spent many nights out there on our borders. I’m sure they realized this on their own at some point.”

  “When is the next full moon?” I ask curiously.

  “She usually comes a day before, and the next one is on February 19th.”

  “Thank you, Chief Natrik, for your time,” I say with gratitude.

  “Their freedom will not come easy, Alice.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your strength and resolve will not be enough to save the ones in the dimension traps. You must overcome your fear of a greater power and use it to your advantage. If you don’t, my people will never be able to get out of those traps.”

  I’m confused by Chief Natrik statement. I try to ask him what he means, but he cuts me off. “Now, with that being said, I want to talk about something else before you leave. I want to talk about you directly.”

  “You want to talk about me?” I say uncomfortably.

  “Why did you fall?”

  His question takes me aback. Honestly, I’m ashamed to speak of my past to him. I can tell he is a man of honesty and forthright living. My actions aren’t worthy of telling.

  “They are,” he says. “That’s how you learn.”

  He read my thoughts! Why am I not surprised? I laugh, my only logical reaction, and I remark, “I didn’t voluntarily fall. I was pushed out by Judgement. My punishment for trying to kill someone.”

  “It is good you did not succeed. You would have changed for the worse. He hurt the one you loved?”

  “He killed my charge.”

  Chief Natrik leans closer and asks, “Was it worth it, Alice? To lose yourself, your purpose, and your wings?”

  “No,” I answer while looking at him. “She’s still dead. He’s still alive, and I’m the only one being punished.”

  “Revenge is dangerous. It is consuming. It makes you blind to what really matters.”

  “I learned that the hard way,” I comment w
ith tears burning in my eyes.

  “What is your purpose now?”

  I shake my head and look down at my hands.

  “You roam. You look at man’s monuments to himself, and what does that really do for you? You think that is a purpose?”

  “It’s a way for me to not get involved, to live unseen and not be bothered.”

  “And look where you are right now, Alice, and how you got here. There is no denying you are living, being seen, being heard, probably finding love, as it should be. Why not make the most of your time while you’re here?”

  I sigh and wipe at my tears, not really able to say anything.

  He dumps the contents of his pipe into a nearby bowl and says, “I’ve met fallen angels before. The sins of man are the reasons why they fall. Lust, greed, power, fame...revenge. The fallen always want what they can’t have as angels, and when they do become human, that desire is never enough. But you are different.”

  “Am I?”

  “You stopped chasing revenge. The wrong people were being hurt, and you recognized that. You are still innately good. Do not disparage and think your punishment is set in stone. Even the most damned is forgiven. You know this better than I do.”

  What he’s saying is so needed. A voice of reason and hope, when I truly don’t see any in the world.

  “Take this opportunity and do for others what they can’t do for themselves. Feed the good nature that’s within you. In this way, you have not lost your purpose. You are still a guardian…Shamira.”

  I’m speechless at first. He knows my angelic name, but then I find my voice. “Thank you, Chief Natrik. I do appreciate your kind words and wisdom.”

  “You are most welcome. Be safe in your travels, and do not give up. You know everything you need to know from this point on. What matters now is what you do with everything I’ve told you.”

  He stands before I can say anything else, and he goes back into the entrance. I stand and follow. When I come out of the dark tunnel, the women are waiting. Chief Natrik is nowhere to be seen. The women gather around, and once again, they lead me. They make me smile as they continue to talk all at the same time. I can’t help but to wonder what they’re saying.

  CHAPTER 37

  Inspector Renald and Bererra, one of President Oliver’s assistant, walk into the police station in Dumas. None of the police officers working on the first floor notice them as they pass by the sergeant’s desk to the elevator. Bererra has made everyone within sight blind to their existence in the room. As they’re waiting patiently for the elevator doors to slide open, a woman joins them right before it arrives. She’s holding a file in her hands. She still doesn’t know they are there, and the gentlemen simply pretend she doesn’t exist.

  She gets on with them and gets off on the fourth floor. They continue on to the fifth and make an exit, going directly to the chief’s office. No one is sitting at the desk in his immediate reception area.

  Inspector Renald and Bererra enter his office without knocking. Chief Lacey stands. He is surprised by the unexpected visit. He recognizes only Inspector Renald from his many appointments in the past at the Missing Persons Unit wing at the headquarters of the Magi Elite in Hamburg, Germany.

  Chief Lacey clears his throat, flatten down his tie, and reaches his hand out to both gentlemen. “Inspector Renald, it’s good to see you.”

  “Don Bererra,” he says, shaking the Chief’s hand.

  “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Bererra. How may I help you two today?”

  “We were sent by President Oliver,” Inspector Renald replies.

  “Really?” he says with reddened cheeks and a nervous smile. “Why would he want to talk to me again? I’ve answered all of his questions.”

  “He needs to clear up some misunderstandings,” Inspector Renald says.

  “Misunderstandings?” Chief Lacey shrugs. “I think I was pretty clear on what I said before at our last meeting.”

  “Let’s go,” Inspector Renald says impatiently.

  Chief Lacey scratches his head and slowly comes around his desk. “Are you sure he wants to talk to me?”

  “Yes,” Bererra says.

  “Alright, but-” Chief Lacey touches their sleeves, and instantly, he gains control of their minds.

  Both men only see glowing white. Bererra is panicking within his mind, and he swings to protect himself. He hits Chief Lacey in the mouth, and he stumbles back holding his pounding lip. Bererra falls hard to the floor.

  Inspector Renald is concentrating on breaking the mental hold. He’s breathing in and out, building up strength within his mind. It’s not long before he’s freed, and he almost falls when his vision comes back. He steadies himself and looks around for the Chief. He’s gone. Bererra is still in the mental trap on the floor.

  Inspector Renald runs out leaving Bererra where he is and heads for the staircase. Chief Lacey is already at the second level and is turning to make the last two flights. Inspector Renald reacts quickly, and he starts running. By the time he reaches the first floor, Chief Lacey is nowhere to be found. The floor is more crowded, and the noise level is higher. Inspector Renald pushes his way through the crowd in the lobby and runs outside. Chief Lacey is gone. Inspector Renald curses under his breath and calls President Oliver to give him the bad news.

  “His refusal to see me speaks volumes,” President Oliver calmly says.

  “Only a guilty man runs, including a cop.”

  “Indeed, Inspector Renald, indeed. I need you back here in Hamburg immediately. We must prepare for our next move.”

  “Yes, Mr. President.”

  Inspector Renald disconnects the call and looks back at the door to the police station. He knows that he can’t just walk in like he did before. Bererra was the one that had all of the police officers distracted. He goes next door to a business building, and he gains access to a transfer chamber through a bathroom on the first floor. He enters the chief’s office and touches Bererra on the shoulder, who is now sitting in a chair holding his head. The spell is broken simply because the chief didn’t complete the spell, but it left a splitting headache for Bererra. Inspector Renald helps him to his feet and into the transfer chamber to go back to Hamburg.

  CHAPTER 38

  So, here I am at the back of the marketplace again, trying to think of a smart way to confront Heather Ostberg Freland. I have to get her to free all of those people, and I have to figure out how I’m going to get her to tell me what happened with John. That’s if she really had something to do with his disappearance. I haven’t seen any real connection between her and Chief Lacey other than both of them knowing Mayor Freland.

  It’s time to try and end this. I walk to the fence where I entered the last time, and there’s a new lock and a police car parked on the other side. There’s an officer in the car with his arm hanging out of the window. I bend over a bit to see what he’s doing. The man’s mouth is wide open, and he’s snoring. Hopefully, he’ll remain asleep.

  I put my hand on the lock, and the mechanisms inside releases. I open the gate enough to slip inside. After I bolt it back, I start for the side of the house directly on the right and travel through several backyards. I keep a steady pace. Ducking behind bushes will take too long and it’s unnecessary, but I do avoid the kiddy pools, the swing sets, and puppy poop and pee spots.

  When I reach the mayor’s house, I notice the curtains on the glass back door are open, and I peep inside. For some reason, I don’t even try to hide. If the mayor’s wife walks into the living room at that very moment, she’ll see me. I try the glass door, and of course, it’s locked. I touch the keyhole where the deadbolt is attached, and it turns. Before stepping inside, I take one last look around behind me. If anyone sees me, I’m sure every armed police officer will be on their way. I hope that’s not the case.

  The living room is a square space with expensive furniture and priceless paintings on the wall. This room is not for sitting. There isn’t a television or a stereo system in sight. It re
minds of Ammon’s parlor room, except this one is at a much smaller scale.

  Straight ahead are the foyer, the front door, and stairs leading to the second floor. The house appears to be huge upon first glance, but I don’t plan on doing a tour. I close my eyes to try and get a sense of anyone in the house. It’s empty, but there are distant heartbeats. The sounds are very weak like they’re a thousand miles away, but it’s definitely in the house.

  I look to the left and head over to the door. I turn the knob thinking that it’s locked, but it gives, anyway. It groans open, and the heartbeats become a little louder. The area beyond the door is dark, and I feel along the walls for a light switch. It takes a little bit more time than I hoped, but I find it and turn it on. I try to keep my ears tuned, eyes open, and my feelings sharp as I descend the steps. When I reach the bottom, I’m not surprised to see the room is as classy as the living room.

  The basement is big, and it is set up like an office. A large oak desk is the centerpiece. Black leather furniture matches the large wooden black beams that hugs the corners and goes across the ceiling and connects in the center. Built-in shelves take up two walls, and there are hundreds of books offering subjects in simple card tricks to meditating to cosmic level energy.

  There are two doors on one wall to the right. One leads to the garage. The other to a closet, probably, and it’s locked. I try to will it unlocked, but it won’t give. Heather Freland or even Conrad Freland is using magic on the door to make sure it stays locked. Clever, but it will not keep someone like me out.

  I concentrate on the knob. It begins to collapse on itself, and the knob falls apart and hits the floor. I pull the door open, and the heartbeats become real. On the walls are framed pictures, hundreds of them, and they are all windows to dimension traps. Tears pool in my eyes as I stare at the existence those people are enduring. It’s cruel.

  Every single person in the dimension traps has different poses. Only a handful is moving. Others are not. There is a sense of sorrow, anger, fear, and confusion emitting from the portraits. Ammon was wrong. These people know they’re in traps, but they don’t know how to get out.