Broken Realms (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 1)

by Moneypenny, D. W.

  Mara walked to the back office and grabbed the DVD case that held the copper medallion. Since she didn’t have any other pressing work, it was a perfect time to see if she can get those burned crystals to come out and remount the new ones Ned had cut. When she returned, she placed the DVD case on the counter and looked around for tools to begin her work.

  “Ms. Lantern, do you think we could have your undivided attention for a few minutes?”

  “Keep going. I’m following you.”

  “Of all the passengers on the flight, a flight on which there was an unexplained explosion, you had the most severe injuries.” Sweat beaded on Suter’s forehead, a tic throbbed below his eye. His head twitched. The muscles in his neck strained to keep it in check.

  “Well, my injuries weren’t that bad. It seemed more like a bump on the head than being in an explosion. I guess we were all pretty lucky.” She routed through her junk drawer, making muffled noise, moving things around.

  “My point is, if there was an explosion, you’d think the person with the worst injuries would be the one closest to it.”

  Mara flipped on the light mounted to the magnifying glass, bent its flexible arm over a black mouse pad on which she planned to stage the medallion, grabbed the DVD case and unzipped it. “I don’t know how I hurt my head. I suppose it could have been an explosion, or maybe I just bonked it on the seat in front of me.”

  “Ms. Lantern, I don’t think you are taking this matter as seriously as…” Suter stopped to look at the medallion Mara placed on the mouse pad. “That’s an interesting piece.”

  She stared through the glass and poked at one of the burned crystals. “Yes, it is.”

  “Anyway, maybe we should make an appointment at a time when you aren’t distracted. It’s important we get full and accurate information in order to determine what caused this accident.”

  “Mr. Suter…”

  “Special Agent Suter, ma’am.” He mopped his forehead with his hand.

  “Sorry. I’m not sure I remember enough to help you. Of course, if you wish, I would be glad to sit down and talk to you.”

  *

  “Where is he?” Mara stomped into the bakery, heading directly toward Ping who sat at a round dinette table in front of a glass display reviewing some paperwork. She kicked an empty box out of her path without pausing as she crossed the room.

  “What’s the matter?” Ping asked.

  “Where is Sam?

  “He’s in the back putting primer on the walls. Why?”

  “Do you know what he told those cops?”

  “What?”

  “He told those cops his last name is Lantern, that he is my brother.” She waited for Ping to say something.

  He looked at her, not knowing how to respond.

  “Well? Say something.”

  “What do you want me to say, Mara? That he’s not?” Ping asked, more somber than defiant. “I can’t do that. I won’t betray a great kid who wants nothing more than to find his place in this world. And that place, whether you want to believe it or not, is with you.”

  “Ping, I can’t do this. I don’t believe in this stuff. Let me make this perfectly clear. I don’t have a brother. I have never had a brother. I will never have a brother.” Her face pulled taut with anger. “What am I supposed to do? Take him home to Mom like a lost puppy? ‘Mom, here’s your boy from an alternate reality!’ Please.”

  “Mara, I know it’s a lot to absorb, but there’s more going on here than you realize. Try to be open-minded. You will have to face up to this eventually. This is not something you can hide from.”

  “I’m not hiding from anything. I’m telling you to keep that kid away from me. If he persists in telling people that he’s my brother, I’ll get a restraining order against both of you.” She turned and stomped back toward the door.

  Ping followed. “Mara—”

  She flung open the glass door and stepped out into the drizzly evening.

  Ping stopped at the door and watched her march across the sidewalk and get into her car with a loud slam. The brake lights flashed on, and the engine turned. He stared at her taillights as she stopped at the intersection up the block, a blinker indicated a right turn, which she made and drove from sight.

  He turned to go back inside. Sam stood there.

  “Don’t worry. She’ll come around.” Ping threw his arm over the boy’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

  Sam slouched forward with his head hanging and said, “No, she won’t. This might be a different realm, but she’s the same Mara.”

  “I actually think this one is different than the one you describe. She’s just scared. Let’s give her some time and space. We will figure out something, a way to get her to realize what is at stake.”

  “She better hurry up and realize soon, before it’s too late.”

  “Let’s put that aside for tonight. How about some pizza?”

  “What’s that?” Sam asked.

  “Boy, you really are from an alternate reality, aren’t you?”

  “Look who’s talking, Professor.”

  “Where I come from we had pizza and cartoons. By the way, I got you a new T-shirt you will enjoy. You will be able to relate.”

  “Who’s on it?”

  “Underdog.”

  CHAPTER 21

  THE ENVELOPE HAD Mara’s name scrawled on it in childish penmanship. She pulled it loose from the shop’s front door, being careful not to yank so hard that the tape pulled up paint. She ran a fingernail under the back flap and slipped out an unfolded invitation to the grand opening of Ping’s Bakery the following Monday. Written on the back in a more mature script, Ping thanked her for fixing the floor mixer and made a personal plea for Mara to show up for the opening.

  The construction of the bakery had been rapid and looked complete from the outside. Even so the place continued to hum with activity. Two men in white uniforms unloaded flour and other items from a food service truck parked out front, while another young man squeegeed the front windows. Construction workers walked in and out, carrying bits and pieces of wood, carpet and linoleum to the Dumpster. Others vacuumed floors and wiped fixtures.

  Several passersby had stopped in the fix-it shop asking when the new place would open. Some had wanted pastries, others a job. That would most likely stop now that a new banner hung beneath the lighted Ping’s Bakery sign announcing the grand opening date. The signage sat above a new hunter-green awning trimmed in white. They had done a good job setting up the place.

  Business at the fix-it shop had been steady for the past few days, but she did not have much on tap at the moment. Buddy had called and wanted to stop by later. He heard echoes on his cell phone and wanted Mara to take a look. Until he showed up, she wanted to get back to the copper medallion to see if she could replace those damaged crystals. That project had gotten pushed aside for paying jobs like the one from OMSI, the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry.

  They had dropped off an old Maytag wringer washer with a faulty wringer casing that kept popping loose. The wringer, comprised of two rubber rollers that squeezed water from clothing when it was manually fed between them, had a safety feature that popped the rollers apart if a hand or arm were accidently pulled in. The problem was it popped whenever anything passed through. A simple adjustment of a spring did the trick, and the OMSI courier hauled it back down to Water Avenue.

  *

  Mara leaned over the magnifying glass and stared down at the jeweled copper disk, poking at one of the blackened crystals with a pair of green-handled bent-nosed pliers. She clamped onto the sides of one of the larger azurite crystals and tightened her grip. The pliers slipped off the crystal, not able to gain purchase. She rotated the medallion, looking for planes along the sides of the crystal on which to grab. After a couple minutes, she thought she was well positioned. She applied pressure, maintained a grip and pulled.

  Nothing.

  She wiggled her wrist, trying to wedge out the stone.

  No lu
ck.

  She bit her lower lip. “Come on, come out.”

  She relaxed her grip and set aside the tool. She felt the stone with a fingertip and then rubbed the metal next to it to see if she could feel a ridge that could be used to pry it loose. The copper rippled, shifted subtly. She moved her finger away and the copper pulled back, retracted from the crystal. The metal looked viscous, organic, a squid’s suction cup releasing its prey. The crystal rolled out of the setting. An empty dimple remained in the medallion.

  “What the hell?” Mara sat up.

  She grabbed the DVD case that held the newly cut azurites and poured them onto the counter. With a pair of tweezers, she picked up a larger one and moved it to the vacant spot on the medallion, squeamish about touching the glutinous metal. She dropped the blue rock into the dimple. It just lolled to one side. Not sure what to expect, she poked it with the tweezers. No effect.

  “Okay, how did I get it to release the azurite?” she said to herself. “You know the answer to that. With your finger. So…” She grimaced as she massaged the area around the dimple and the new azurite stone. The metal contracted, gripped the crystal.

  Mara sat back, astonished.

  “Really unreal. That kind of creeps me out.”

  The bell above the door jangled. Buddy stood in the doorway, filling it with his blocky gray-hoodie-covered frame, smiling. “What creeps you out?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just something I’m working on. What’s up?” She raised her head but kept her eyes on the newly implanted stone through the magnifying glass.

  “Dad says, ‘Hi, Hi.’”

  “Hi, Hi?”

  “It echoes,” he said, snickering.

  “Oh, right. Let’s take a look.”

  *

  Later that afternoon, after Buddy was on his way with his echo-free cell phone, Mara picked up the pliers, then realized she most likely would not need them to work on the medallion. She set them aside and wiggled her fingers, largely as a delaying tactic. Nothing compelled her to repair the copper disk. No one waited for it, and she didn’t need it. She could simply put the thing up on a shelf or in a drawer without replacing its charred crystals. Who would care? The idea of rubbing the metal and having it ooze away releasing the stones and then oozing back to mount new ones made her queasy. It offended her mechanical sensibilities. A shiver went up her spine. She reached under the magnifying glass.

  “Come on, come out.”

  She rubbed the first remaining blackened crystal for a couple minutes before it loosened. The copper shifted away, flowing lavalike just a millimeter or so, enough to free the damaged azurite. Instead of placing a new stone in the concavity, Mara moved on to remove the next one. It took just about a minute to come loose. The next took even less time. In five minutes all of the burned stones lay on the counter.

  Only the central sunstone, the newly mounted azurite and the large black tourmaline at the bottom remained mounted on the medallion. She stared at the metal for a few minutes, looking for oozing or other movement. None.

  Continuing on with the project, she dropped new stones into their dimples and rubbed the surrounding metal. The copper responded almost immediately and embraced each crystal. In another couple minutes, the job was done. She pushed the magnifying glass out of her way and looked down at the medallion.

  It looked new.

  She lifted it off the counter and held it in the palm of her right hand. Raising it to eye level, she said, “Boy, I wish I knew where you came from.”

  Her hand felt odd, engulfed by static electricity. The medallion felt lighter, losing its clunky, metallic heft. It became lighter still and then weightless, floating into the air above Mara’s hand, moving higher until it reached eight inches, where it hovered.

  “Whoa.” Mara was afraid to move her hand for some reason.

  The medallion spun like a DVD, slowly at first, and then faster. Mara straightened her stance so she could look down on the face of the spinning medallion and saw blue light smeared along the track where the crystals were mounted. Her pulse accelerated. The face of the medallion blurred—crystals, etchings and glyphs blended into bands of featureless colors. Then it began to flip at forty-five-degree angles, jerking at first as if it were going to throw itself across the room, out of control. As it sped up, it smoothed out, regained its symmetry, its balance. It reminded Mara of a gyroscope, spinning on all axes at once.

  It gyroed faster and faster still, until the medallion itself was no longer discernible, just a spinning blob suspended in air. It continued to accelerate. The blurriness melted away into a spinning liquid sphere that continued to quicken. It pulsed and shone. As if some threshold had been passed, brilliant light burst from it, filling the shop and momentarily blinding Mara. She blinked, raising her other arm to shade her eyes. When she lowered her arm, there before her, floating above her outstretched hand, glowed a molten ball of blue mercury.

  CHAPTER 22

  THE GLOWING ORB descended slowly back to her palm. Mara half expected it to land and power down, but, once it alighted, it continued to glow. Again she felt her hand surrounded by static electricity, raising the hair on her arm. The light continued to spin in her palm. It felt like something undulating within a thin membrane.

  Mara closed her fingers around it and lifted it to eye level. She could not see into it, the light was too bright and turbulent. All she could see were swirling bands of blue hues.

  “Okay, big blue ball of light, you’re supposed to be the Chronicle of Creation. Show me creation.”

  A translucent egg-shaped bubble blossomed from the ball engulfing Mara, expanding to the length of the shop from the front door to the doorway leading to the bicycle garage out back. She crouched, shielding herself, not realizing it had already passed through her. She squeezed her eyes closed.

  “No, no, no. Stop that. I didn’t mean it.”

  After a moment, she opened an eye and then the other. She straightened and turned in a circle with her mouth gaping, looking to the periphery of the bubble that encased her. She could see the shop opaquely beyond the frontier of the ovoid, though it seemed distant and somewhat off-kilter, not quite aligned with where Mara thought she stood, as if she were half a foot below where the floor should be, looking up into a ghostly sky dropped into the shop. The effect disoriented her. Though different from the rotating double vision she had experienced on the airplane, it brought back the same sense of being out of sync with the world around her.

  “Abort, abort! How do you reboot this thing?”

  She shook the ball of light. Blue and black strobes like those on the flight strafed the shop walls. The bubble blurred, reminding Mara of static on an old television screen.

  “Bad idea. Don’t shake the light. Okay, nice and steady now.”

  She held her hand level, still grasping it. The bubble cleared up.

  Looking above, Mara noticed lines forming along the edge of the translucent bubble, running into spherical nodes that appeared from nowhere, and splitting into more lines, like a three-dimensional genealogical diagram. Only one line went into any node, but many led out of it. She noticed some nodes had no lines emerging from them. Lines went in; none came out.

  The entire bubble surface filled with lines, and they turned toward Mara, filling the space between the periphery and the spot where she stood. The bubble was not hollow; the interior was part of the display.

  A node appeared directly between Mara’s eyes about three inches from her nose. She crossed her eyes to see it.

  As the lines continued to be drawn, many bore down on her, heading directly for her nose and the node floating before it. She felt an urge to duck, and, when she did, the node followed her, maintaining its position relative to her face. As she shifted her field of vision beyond the stalking node, the entire diagram shifted with her.

  “What in the world?” Mara asked, again cross-eyed as hundreds of lines converged on the node, creating a fan pointing directly at her head. “That looks wrong. And I don
’t like how it’s pointing at me.”

  Once all the lines were drawn, Mara stood in a translucent web suspended in the space of the shop. “If this is supposed to be a GPS, its interface leaves a lot to be desired,” she said.

  Unsure of herself, she raised the hand holding the Chronicle. “Okay, I’m done now.”

  Nothing. The bubble and its web of lines persisted.

  A sound interrupted the thought. A muffled whisper. Mara turned to the front door. No one there.

  The sound again, definitely a voice. She turned her head back. It was to her left. She strained to hear it.

  “Bring…” it said, the rest of the sentence too low to discern.

  Mara focused on a node floating to her left, two feet from the one in front of her.

  “Bring it to the altar…”

  “Definitely coming from that one,” she said, reaching out to the node. “Say it again. What altar?”

  She felt silly.

  She touched the node, and it glowed. The bubble diagram shifted, placing the glowing node directly in front of her and shifting the one with the many lines to the right. The node spun, imploded in a flash of light, replaced by a black tear in the fabric of the bubble.

  The rip widened and pulled Mara toward it.

  Papers on the counter fluttered into the air, flew into the blackness and disappeared. Her tweezers skittered across the counter and flew in. It grew stronger, sucked in currents of air that whipped around the shop. It gobbled up her stapler and a screwdriver. Her shirt and hair fluttered forward, streaming in the vacuum. She grabbed the counter and leaned against the pull.

  “Bring it to the Altar of Hyas Tyee.” The voice rang out over the growing din of wind and appliances flying off shelves.

  “Oh, my God, no, no, no,” Mara screamed as the gaping dark hole grew, covering the back of the shop. Her grip on the counter slipped, and she slid forward. In a panic, she let go of the Chronicle, but it stayed in the air. Mara risked letting go of the counter, reached up and poked the node originally in front of her.

  The web of lines shifted back. The black tear collapsed, replaced by a node.