One of my favorite ways to decompress is to watch TV. I usually enjoy bouncing between a good cozy and a forensic based show.
Lately, I have binge watching MacDonald and Dodds— a bit of an odd couple British series set in Bath with a bright, ambitious female DCI and a old school, unassuming DS who eats fries with butter. Even the Hubbinator enjoys watching the series. This is on Britbox which has all the old Doctor Who shows.
The other is streaming on peacock tv—Pokerface. Charlie the main character is a mix of Colombo, 70s Hippie, and lie detector. The writing is clever and her character and those she meets on the road are delightful.
Until next time, stay healthy.
I have a thing for organization. It’s a weird thing because it doesn’t apply to everything, actually it usually doesn’t apply. But I do like to organize my crafting stuff. I buy boxes to keep kits together.
This Christmas, when I brought my husband the Costco size of his favorite seasonal treat, I realized that I could use that plastic box.
It houses my current card-making project.
The 8.5 and 11 inch papers don’t fit exactly, but it is close enough for the papers. It is nice to reuse the case, plus the cards smell like chocolate.
Until next time, stay healthy.
My pup always keeps by seat warm for me. It’s just that sometimes, she doesn’t give my seat back.
Until next time, stay healthy.
I’ll admit I’m still not good at card designing. Thankfully, there are bunches of folks online who are willing to share their skills. These folks kindly place their layouts online for all to use. I found two of these designs to make general winter cards and Valentine’s Day cards.
Clearly, I didn’t follow directions closely, but I like how they turned out.
Until next time, stay healthy.
We redid our main bathroom about 10 years ago. I still love it. Unfortunately, the handle on the hot water tap decided that it didn’t want to stay. In other words, it popped off.
It did wait until after the holidays, so that was something. Still, it was quite annoying. We searched around and found a black faucet instead of the bronze which was the easy part.
Finding the tools to work in such a tight space took most of the time. And I keep thinking I should purchase the tool and be done with it. Anyway, thanks to the hubbinator’s stubbornness, we won in the end.
Until next time, stay healthy.
Chapter 7
Adrienne shifted her shopping bags to her right hand and carried the doggy bag with the remains of her lunch in her left. Retail therapy with her girlfriends had been nice. The latest SciFi movie had been fun. But the passage of time was not good for her salad—dressing and tomatoes tended to cause the lettuce to wilt and become unappetizing. She shuddered as she chucked the bag into the nearest garbage receptacle.
On her right, the door to an office building slid open. A trio of men in casual Friday attire bounded out into the gathering crowds of downtown Phoenix. The two on the ends jostled the one in the middle as they teased him about a girl.
Adrienne checked her watch. Half-past four. Damn. She was going to hit rush hour. Maybe the light rail station wouldn’t be packed with commuters. She turned the corner. Hunched over their phones like Quasimodos, men, women, and a few kids with backpacks lined the platform. Given the time and the crowd, she wouldn’t get a seat until her exit.
Unless… Adrienne turned on her heel. Unless she caught the train at an earlier station, there was bound to be a seat in the back, and she could avoid much of the jostling. Bags slapping her thigh, she picked up her pace.
A blue car honked as it maneuvered across crawling traffic. Engines rumbled at red lights while impatient drivers were eager to get moving. A jacked-up truck rode herd on the bumper of a small hybrid, trying to push the vehicle through the line of congested traffic. Two drivers communicated in obscene sign language through closed windows.
Thank God she hadn’t driven downtown. She shifted to the side, giving the homeless woman and her pup room to work the crowd of drivers ignoring her sign begging for help paying her medical bills.
Two more blocks and she’d see the light rail station. Two more blocks… Her steps slowed when she turned the corner. Her old stomping grounds. If she turned right instead of left at the next block, she could see her old apartment complex. Her feet took the path before her brain decided. And then she was there—staring up at the sixth-floor balcony of their loft.
Chewing on her bottom lip, she allowed the archived memories to wash over her. They’d come home to the two-bedroom loft after their honeymoon. The sink in the hall bath had never drained right, and the bathroom remodel had prevented them from taking a vacation two springs ago. Grief and joy tumbled through her like two sides of the same coin.
Going this way had been a mistake. Yet her feet remained rooted in place. A breeze cooled her damp cheeks. She swiped at the tears, closed her eyes, and blocked the memories. She needed to get to the light rail. Turning on her heel, she aimed for Third Street.
The thump and twang of a live band blasted music out of the bar at the corner. She swallowed the lump in her throat. They’d loved that bar. Loved making fun of the designer cocktails that trendy hipsters ordered from the crowded bar. The scent of seared meat and hot grease caused her stomach to rumble.
The wilted salad she’d picked at had been hours ago and had been wasted as she waited for her friends to launch an intervention. But they hadn’t. And she hadn’t told them about seeing her dead husband and child.
She paused in the doorway and allowed her eyes to adjust to the dim interior before stepping inside.
Most of the tables were empty—not unusual at this time of day but give it an hour, and the place would be standing room only, and two or three deep at the bar. She waded in, buoyed by the grunge music coming from the band, and avoided looking at the corner booth where he had proposed, and the wobbly table near the pillar where she sipped lemonade and told him of her pregnancy. A few rows over, they had poured over the sonogram of their baby and argued over names for their son.
Pushing through the memories, she made it to the back and chose a table in the corner. Nothing had happened here. Her nose wrinkled at the hint of a urinal cake. Maybe she should move.
A laughing couple untangled their embrace to sit at a center table.
She was close enough to that nonsense. Adrienne dropped her bags on the bench and turned her back on the happy couple.
Fabric swished behind her.
Adrienne steeled herself. Please don’t let it be one of the waitresses that routinely served her and her husband.
The scent of patchouli surrounded her as the waitress slid a paper menu across the table. “I’ll be back to take your order when you’re ready.”
Relief released Adrienne’s shoulders. No explanation necessary. “I don’t need a menu. I’ll have a strawberry IPA and a southwest burger, medium well. Tots, not fries.”
The words were out of her mouth before she thought them. Her husband always referred to her order as a future heart attack. She shook her head and blinked. Just a twinge of pain from the loss. She ducked under her purse strap as the waitress gathered up the menu and moved away. Maybe she’d commemorate her solo dining experience with a picture of her meal. That might cause her parents to reconsider an intervention. She fished her cell from the bottom of her purse.
The bathroom hinges squeaked, and the sharp scent of urinal cake wafted over.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to move away from the restrooms. She glanced up.
A man in a turquoise shirt braced his shoulder against the door, holding it open as he spoke to someone behind him.
It was him—her late husband. No one would believe her, no one unless… She raised her phone and swiped on the camera app. A quick press of the button, and she captured him in a picture—proof she wasn’t losing her mind.
He turned. Their eyes locked. His lips thinned and a muscle ticked in his jaw. He was pissed—madder than he’d been the day he died. The day they’d argued over whose turn it was to take care of the colicky baby—to give up sleep in hopes of shushing the incessant crying.
He flashed a feral smile and stalked away.
She dodged around the table, keeping an eye on his back as he disappeared down a long hallway. Where was he going?
He pushed open the door at the end. Late afternoon sunlight streamed inside and glinted off the windshields in the parking lot.
“Wait!” She cried out.
He stepped outside and turned, disappearing.
She stumbled after him, shifting to the side to avoid a stack of boxes, and increased her pace. She hit the door before it closed. Sunlight slanted into her eyes, momentarily blinding her.
Fingers dug into her shoulders, yanking her outside then shoving her backward.
She skidded on her heels before colliding against the outside wall.
Rage twisted the face filling her vision.
She wanted to fight back, but a part of her knew she deserved his anger. The back of her head hit the brick. Stars danced on the fringes of her peripheral vision.
“You stupid bitch. You destroyed my life; now I’m gonna destroy yours.” He slammed her against the wall again and again.
Darkness dropped like a curtain over her vision until oblivion sucked her down.
Late at night and early in the morning, I always check the clock on the nightstand instead of the watch on my wrist.
Chapter 3
Dazzler ducked down a side street. Victorian homes rose gracefully from lawns, decked in Christmas decorations. Spiral turrets and gothic towers were painted in Jordan almond colors and trimmed with crisp white and gray. Along the white picket fences lining the streets hung garland and gold ribbons. Laughter emanated from the village green one street over.
Flying above her head, a handful of reindeer chased a maple leaf-tailed one with a candy cane ornament in his mouth. The lead reindeer tossed the decoration to the one closing in on his left and the herd veered after the new quarry.
Maybe she had overdone it by inciting the reindeer to play. She checked over her shoulder. No one followed. Her cousin Willa only <i>thought Dazzler was here, she didn’t <i>know it. Dazzler’s stomach clenched. She smoothed the flannel covering her belly.
How could Willa have shown up in Holly?
Her cousin must know how much her presence affected Todd. He didn’t need his ex-wife reminding him of his failed love life, not when the Holly festivities depended on his undivided attention. Just look how the townspeople had turned on him when the lights fell dark.
He was doing the best he could. That should count for something, shouldn’t it?
Fisting her hands, she squared her shoulders. She would find a way to stay and help him.
The maple leaf-tailed reindeer circled the herd before diving low and buzzing the street. Autumn leaves trembled on the trees and skittered along the cobblestone road in his wake. He spun and collided with a sycamore tree.
Leaves showered down. They condensed into a ball and eventually transformed him from a reindeer to a scarecrow. Cheddar stuffed leaves into a pair of jeans. Wiggling four stick fingers, he held them up for her to see.
“I always like it when I get improvements.” His smile crinkled his acorn eyes. As he walked, leaves solidified into boots. “It’s a shame to be leaving so soon.”
“Leave?” Dazzler blinked. Was the human magic affecting him? He’d never had problems remembering after so short a time between stuffings. “Why would we leave?”
“Because your cousin is here and is looking for us. With her lapdog Sterling in tow. They won’t allow you to finish your investigation.”
“We have to stay and protect Todd. Now more than ever.” Dazzler turned right onto Yule Street. “Didn’t you see his face when Willa appeared?”
She was sure his heart had broken, just a little. She scratched at the birthmark on her wrist.
Cheddar shrugged. Leaves fell out of his shirt and tumbled down the street. “I wasn’t paying much attention.”
Youngsters of all ages played tag on brown grass in front of a lavender Victorian. A woman rocked on the violet-trimmed wraparound porch. With an excited yip, a spotted dog joined in the children’s fun.
Dazzler’s footsteps slowed. Should she go to another street? From the corner of her eye, she watched the kids and their babysitter. No one paid attention to her. For once, she was thankful for her coloring. Here, she could blend in.
Her attention cut back to Cheddar. “Todd was horrified and devastated to see his ex.”
Her chest tightened at the memory. She had to find a way to mitigate that.
Cheddar tapped a stick finger against his stitched mouth. “If you really want to help, why not present yourself to your cousin, and the both of you return to the North Pole? She’d leave Todd alone then.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dazzler snapped. Sometimes his stuffing got in the way of logical thought. “If I turn myself in, and Willa takes me to the North Pole, then who will make certain the festivities go off without a hitch and Todd gets to spend the holidays with his family? No one, that’s who. And that would ruin Christmas for everyone. It is our duty as Santa’s elves to do all we can to promote the spirit of Christmas.”
Cheddar’s fingers ticked against wooden slats as he ran them along the picket fence. “What if Todd turns you in?”
Her breath hitched in her throat. She coughed to clear it. “He had a chance back at the square and didn’t.”
“Maybe he didn’t see you.”
“I’m not invisible, Cheddar. He <i>pretended not to see me.” She was familiar with the technique. Most elves adopted it when she entered their department at the North Pole. She didn’t mind. Much. Besides, Todd had done it out of kindness, not because of her reputation.
Children screamed with delight as a new person was dubbed “it” in their game of tag.
Keeping her head turned away, Dazzler studied the homes on her side of the street. A buttercream-yellow Queen Anne, the third one from the end, drew her eye. Her skin itched at the neatly trimmed hedges, the even pile of the carpet of brown grass, and a tamed rosebush on the right. Just a little magic would free the vegetation. Flowers would cover the rose trellis and the bushes could reach the railing of the wraparound porch. Planting beds could break up the grass, giving homes to all sorts of woodland creatures.
Cheddar stopped trailing his fingers along the fence. “What about that old man, Ole Henderson? He could turn you in.”
“He could, but he didn’t.” Her steps slowed in front of the house.
“That house is sad. There are no Christmas decorations, like the others.”
There was that. Her fingers curled into fists at her side. She daren’t do magic, fix the house and make it happy, not with Willa nearby.
“We need someplace to stay out of sight. The town has a bed-and-breakfast. Perhaps we should check in and consider the best way to help Todd over a cup of hot chocolate.”
“Chocolate solves a lot of problems.” Cheddar wrapped his fingers around the pickets in the gate. “But we can’t go to Charity and Patience’s bed-and-breakfast.”
“We can’t?”
“No, Willa said she was going there.” Cheddar lifted the latch and pushed the gate open. “Since this place looks deserted, we should hide here.” He shuffled down the flagstone path.
“Cheddar!” Dazzler hissed. Figgy pudding! He was going to get them caught.
The scarecrow increased his pace.
A house door slammed across the street. The skin between Dazzler’s shoulder blades tingled. They’d been spotted.
Slipping into the yard, she shut the gate behind her. Her heart thudded in her ears. If they were caught…
Cheddar ignored the porch and veered right onto the path leading to the backyard. Her legs trembled with the need to run and hide. She shouldn’t do anything to give herself away.
“Martha! Martha Dugan!” a woman called out.
Dazzler bit her lip. Martha was Todd’s mother. Was this her house? Would they take her in? Should she embroil them in her mess? She couldn’t.
“Cheddar.”
He opened the wrought iron gate and strolled into the backyard.
“Mrs. Crumbie.” Another woman answered. “How are the children this morning?”
“They’re fine, but your reindeer are not. They’ve completely destroyed the light display and—”
Dazzler winced. Stuffed stockings! Had she solved the problem of the lighting glitch by causing another problem for Todd? She latched the gate behind her, shutting out their conversation.
After a short walk along the side of the clapboard house, the yard unrolled before her. An oak tree spread branches over the neatly trimmed lawn. Lemon-yellow and pumpkin-orange leaves clung to the black limbs. Fifty feet away, Cheddar plucked a few red ones from the ground and stuffed them into his shirt.
Her heart thudded at the pools of vegetation—isolated bushes and segregated annuals rooted in puddles of red bark mulch shivered in the autumn breeze. Knees trembling, she resisted the urge to drop to the ground, dig her fingers into the soil, and use magic to fill in the empty spaces.
As she tore her attention away, her gaze stuttered on the pristine swing set. Sleigh-red poles formed the A-frame and supports. For a moment, she pictured dark-haired girls and pointy-eared boys filling the marshmallow seats of the swings and air glider. She shook the nonsense from her head. When she dared to let herself dream of her forever home, she saw lush gardens bustling with wildlife.
Stick fingers raised, Cheddar raced after a falling leaf.
Dazzler turned and scanned the porch. She smiled at the rocking chair near the two-seater porch swing. That was a step in the right direction. She skimmed the Dutch back door; her breath caught in her throat. There it was. Right out of her dreams—an evergreen hammock. Two candy cane pillows topped the head and a fluffy throw blanket at the foot was perfect for snuggling and relaxing. She stumbled over the even grass. Would the chains squeak or be well-oiled?
Cheddar nibbled on the leaf he’d caught, watching her. Her boots were silent as she climbed the five steps to the porch. She trailed her fingers along the glossy white railing.
Leaves rustled behind her. Cheddar scaled the railing and flung a leg over to land on the porch.
“Well, that’s a relief. We can sleep out here under the stars.”
Nodding, she reached out. Her hand shook before she touched the gold braid running down the side of the hammock. By Kringle, she hadn’t imagined it. As she shifted her hand, her fingers dug into the white blanket.
Cheddar flopped into the hammock. The chains jangled softly as they adjusted to his weight. He patted the fabric beside him.
“This is comfortable. Not practical for the North Pole, but quite right here in the warmer climates.”
“Perfect.” Dazzler removed the blanket and raised the cable knit to her nose. Cedar and sunshine tickled her senses. It smelled like Todd. But how could she have picked his house out of everyone’s in town?
“Cheddar, did you happen to see whose name is on the mailbox?”
Cheddar shrugged. “I don’t recall.”
Cradling the throw against her chest, Dazzler crossed to the nearest window and pressed her nose against the pane. Dried-up sticks were all that remained in the pots on the windowsill. Cherry cabinets hung on the walls, and sparkling appliances gleamed on the cream granite countertops. Faces smiled at her from the photographs stuck to the stainless steel fridge. Cool air filled her mouth. <i>Beauty and the Beast<i>’s Belle took center stage between her, Todd, and Candance.
“This is Todd’s house.”
“It is?” Cheddar clasped his fingers behind his head and crossed his feet at the ankles. “Then he won’t mind if we take a little nap. Reforming myself multiple times takes a lot of energy.”
He snuggled deeper into the pillow, and his eyes drifted closed.
“I don’t think Todd would mind if we rested here for a minute or two.” At least, she hoped not.
She yawned. It had been a long day, but they were safe. Placing her hand on the hammock, she steadied it before lowering her bottom. That hadn’t been so bad. Raising her legs, she swung them up. The hammock tilted left then right, nearly dumping her on the ground. She hung on.
Cheddar snored, but his chest squeaked and a fuzzy nose and twitching whiskers poked out of his shirt. The squirrel chittered and shook his finger at her before leaping to the ground.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She relaxed her hold as the hammock steadied. “I promise you that you are safe.”
Tail twitching in annoyance, the squirrel thundered across the porch then raced across the yard.
Dazzler spread the blanket across them and sank into the candy cane pillow. Her eyes flickered close. Only a moment. Just a short nap.
#
Her eyes flew open. The sun was lower on the western horizon than it had been a moment ago. Hours ago, she mentally corrected herself. She’d slept for hours. Her senses reached out, picked up the squirrel inspecting his new home in the tree. A cardinal perched on a branch. Her muscles relaxed, and she inhaled a calming breath. This was Todd’s house. She should be safe here.
Cheddar sat up. His pinecone ears twitched. “Somebody’s coming.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Who would be coming? And why would they be coming into the back yard? She scanned the area. No hiding place in the well-tended space. And if she used magic, Willa would find her. Tarnished tinsel!
Rolling off the hammock, she landed on the porch with a thud.
“Cheddar,” she whispered, scrambling under the hammock. Her nails dug into the painted slats.
The scarecrow landed beside her in a flutter of leaves. Fabric rustled as he took up space beside her. “I don’t think this is a very good hiding spot.”
The latch on the gate clicked. They were in the side yard.
“Shhh.” Her ears pricked in the silence. Who was it? It had better not be Willa. Her cousin needed to stay far away from Todd.
Cheddar rolled on top of her and dissolved in a heap. She blew a leaf out of her eyes.
“I understand, Nonna.” Candance’s voice filtered into the backyard. “I just had my headphones in while listening to my music. I’ll keep them out in the future.”
Footsteps crunched on the dying blades of grass. Not Willa’s, someone heavier, bigger. Afternoon sunshine glinted on a head of brown hair. Her heart raced. Todd.
“Dazzler?” he whispered. “Are you here?”
“Da-ad.” Candance’s singsong voice rose at the end. “You told Mom Auntie D isn’t here.”
“She wasn’t at the time I answered your mother,” he shot back.
Sloughing off her blanket of leaves, Dazzler rolled out from under the hammock. “I’m here.”
“Auntie D! You came!” Candance squealed and rushed forward. Peppermint and sunshine preceded the seventeen-year-old. A smile lit her heart-shaped face as her thin arms wrapped around Dazzler. “I missed you. I wanted to visit you once I got up north, but Mom said it was best if I didn’t.”
Candace rested her chin on Dazzler’s shoulder. Dazzler ruffled the girl’s hair, enjoying the silky feel of the white highlights.
“Your Mom was right.” She closed her eyes and tamped down the pain as the admission shredded her throat. Willa never acknowledged their relationship unless pushed. “We’ll make plans while I’m here, and you can sneak away so we can enjoy cocoa and cookies.”
“We better.” Leaning back, Candance shook her finger at Dazzler. “I think you got me in trouble with Nonna. She said I ignored her when I was sneaking in the backyard.”
“She didn’t call out.” Dazzler offered in her defense. After planting a quick kiss on Candance’s cheek, she tucked a white lock behind the girl’s ears. The little girl was growing up—her ears were starting to gather into points at the top. “And I’m sorry I got you in trouble. Cookies and cocoa are never to be used to make amends. They are to be enjoyed whenever you are with those you love.”
Candance squinted. Her cobalt-blue eyes shifted to silver. “Even when you’re mad at that someone?”
Dazzler nodded. Friends and family were to be cherished, always. “Even then.”
“Then my stomach will soon be as big a bowl of jelly as Saint Nick himself, because everyone has been very welcoming at the North Pole.” Candance beamed. “I have so many cousins.”
Forcing a smile, Dazzler tucked her hands in her pockets. “Everyone at the North Pole is related.”
Todd cleared his throat. “Candance, honey, why don’t you get the grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup cooking while I talk to Dazzler for a minute.”
Dazzler’s stomach clenched. He sounded so serious. Was he upset at her arrival? Did he blame her for the failing lights?
“Sure, Dad.” Candance hugged Dazzler quickly before skipping into the house. “I’m glad you’re going to spend the holidays with us. It was something I’ve dreamed of since forever.”
Dazzler glanced down at her boots.
Twig fingers raked the leaves into a pile and slid back under the hammock. Too bad she couldn’t hide like Cheddar. Still, if Todd was going to ask her to leave, she’d best get it over with. She could be in Flagstaff before the hospital closed. Nurse Paula was bound to still be working. And the kids always welcomed her visits. She glanced up.
Todd raked his fingers through his dark-brown hair. “I wish you’d told me you were coming.”
Knees trembling, Dazzler rested her hand on his forearm. Was he going to turn her away? “I’m sorry. It was kind of a last-minute thing.”
Covering her hand, Todd tugged her down onto the top step. A moment passed. Then two. He stared at his back yard; his thumb swept back and forth across her knuckles. “Since you’re here, I won’t turn you away. But I have one condition. No magic.”
“No magic?” Dazzler’s insides did a funny dance. Hunger was getting to her. She studied his profile, the jutting of his chin, the firming of his lips. Had he heard the rumors? Did he believe them? “Why?”
“With Candance coming into <i>her magic, I’m losing her to your world.” He shifted so his thigh pressed against hers.
“My world.” She rubbed her sternum with her free hand. He didn’t consider her part of his world. Did that mean he didn’t consider them to be friends?
“I need Candance to see that human Christmases are great even without magic. That it’s the loved ones you surround yourself with that matter, not the ability to create something from thin air or have pointed ears.”
Scooting closer, she forced a smile. “But don’t you see, love <i>is magic? It’s—”
“My house, my rules.” His eyes glinted with determination. “Besides, you don’t want to disappoint Candance. Actually, your being here might work to my advantage. She’ll see elves don’t need magic to be happy.”
Not need magic?
“I see.” On one hand, Dazzler would be wanted, needed. Just not her magic, a magic she’d come here to save. Still, she could be with Candance, observe the teenager, and maybe find the root of her own magical mishaps in the process. Maybe even perform a little magic when no one was looking. “What do you want me to do?”
“Do? You can’t do anything. I don’t even think you’ll be able to leave the house.” Todd shook his head, shifting away from her. “Willa and Frost are looking for you. If they find you, then Candance’s Christmas will be ruined, and everything will be for nothing.”
“Not leave the house?” Dazzler groaned. There had to be a way around that caveat.
Todd glanced at her ears. “People will notice two elves in town.”
Cheddar slid out from under the hammock and stared at Todd with unblinking acorn eyes. “Dazzler is a Sylvan elf. She gets her power from the woods. If you keep her locked up inside, she could get sick. Do you want that?”
“No. Of course not. I…” Color flushed Todd’s cheeks, and he dropped her hand. “This was a bad idea. I should have stuck with my original plan. You’ll have to leave. Elves and humans shouldn’t mix.”
“I have it!” The heart-shaped birthmark on her arm tingled. “Since everyone has already seen Willa and are expecting to see her, I’ll change my appearance to look like her. Problem solved! It’s brilliant!”
Chapter 6
The Mission Control computers swarmed with static. Son of a bitch! Eli swept his hands over the desk, raking everything onto the floor—papers fluttered, his phone landed screen first, and empty cans of energy drinks rattled to the ground. Twelve drones gone.
He clasped his head between his hands and squeezed his skull. This couldn’t be happening. This just could not be happening. Painted crimson by the emergency lights, he glanced at the baker’s rack shoved against the wall. Their emptiness mocked him. He had not opened a portal to a ghost world. Spirits just didn’t exist.
And the second law of thermodynamics?
He hated thermodynamics and its blathering about energy. Energy conservation could suck his balls.
He collapsed onto the office chair, sending the squeaky wheels rolling back a few inches. Acid burned his stomach, and bile soured his mouth. And his head wouldn’t stop pounding. When his phone alarm chimed, he slid out of the chair. Dropping to his hands and knees, he brushed aside his desk debris until he found and silenced his cell.
Another hour gone, wasted, trying to make sense of the unsolvable and senseless. How many hours did that make? Seven? No, more like eight. His stupid drones hadn’t even sent back any usable data. His stomach grumbled. Rising on his knees, he yanked open the nearest desk drawer.
Instead of a box of energy bars, the inside overflowed with a mound of empty wrappers. He chucked handfuls to the floor with the rest of the garbage. Come on. There had to be one left. Just one. His fingers brushed cold plastic, and he froze. Not an energy bar but something else. Something better.
A memory jangled the back of his mind. He rooted through the remaining wrappers until he found a grip on the plastic body. He lifted his buried treasure. First, a blade poked through the layers of wrappers, then more until the fins were exposed.
Ha! His bark of laughter overrode the hiss of the nitrogen dewars. Finally, something in this hideously horrible day was going his way. He carefully slid the antique drone out of the drawer. With a quick puff of breath, he blew off the coating of dust. Would it still work?
Placing the drone on his clear desk, he fished out the handheld remote and popped off the top of the battery compartment. Empty. Easily fixed. He surged to his feet. The world tilted and dipped. He stumbled and caught himself on the edge of the desk. Whoa. Maybe he should get something to eat first.
He glanced at the mirrored surface of the open portal then the third Mission Control computer. The bar graphs showed fluctuations in power. The portal wasn’t as stable as he would have liked, but then he had kept the doorway open for nearly three hours.
Three hours without another appearance of his mother. Or his father. Or any other ghost.
Of course, he hadn’t precisely reacted well the first time, but his loved ones should at least have tried to make contact again.
Which could only mean his first instincts were correct. He hadn’t created a portal to the other side but something else. He just needed proof. He strode across the room to the baker’s rack near the lumpy futon in the corner. Removing a plastic storage bin, he tore off the lid and rifled through the contents before pulling out a handful of batteries collecting on the bottom. Returning to Mission Control, he quickly slotted them into the remote control, then the drone, and switched them both on.
The drone’s blades hummed, and its circular shape wobbled as he guided it into the air. The camera feed streamed black and white images to the small screen on the remote as he aimed for the portal. He held his breath as it plunged through the silver eye. A ripple lapped at the metal ribs, and the silvery matter tore away from the outer edge.
His gaze bounced to the Mission Control computer and checked the wormhole’s integrity—holding at eighty-five percent. Good enough. Eli chewed on his bottom lip as he waited for the drone to respond to the computer’s pings.
<Connection established. Receiving data packet. Please wait.>
“Come on. Come on.” His leg jumped from nervous energy, and the remote control shook in his tight grip. The screen blanked before asking him to wait some more. The environmental monitoring screen was black.
Please God, let him have upgraded the old drone with new equipment. As if in answer to his prayer, data appeared in the windows.
“Yes!” He didn’t dare loosen his death grip on the remote control for a victory fist pump. Orange and murky images filled the video feed as if everything on the other side was wrapped in gauze—no golden harps or angels. Maybe the other side wasn’t where the good people went.
But his mom had come from there.
Eli shrugged. He wasn’t a believer. None of his family were. Maybe that explained the Purgatory murk. He squinted at the screen, searching for landmarks, anything to see if the drone was moving forward. Shadows swayed and blew past in the distance. Visuals weren’t helpful.
He switched his attention to the sensor data. Ozone and carbon monoxide readings were off the charts. Temperatures pegged at over one hundred thirty degrees Fahrenheit. Oxygen was barely above hypoxic levels. Good thing the dead didn’t need to breathe. Good thing he didn’t plan to visit his folks on the other side. Or did he? He pushed the drone forward, noting the presence of heavy metals in the air, such as lead and trace amounts of mercury.
Jesus. He’d need an oxygen mask and a decontamination shower if his drones failed and he had to step across the threshold. Even then, he couldn’t survive for long.
A humanoid shape solidified in the murk. He twisted the controls to follow it. The image stopped. A red warning flared on the screen.
“Now what!” He couldn’t lose this drone. He just couldn’t. The image tilted.
Something flashed across the screen and then disappeared.
<Malfunction. Image lost. Connection lost.>
“God fucking dammit!” He hurled the controller across the room.
It hit the concrete floor and shattered—bits of plastic scattering in all directions. The mirrored surface of the portal shimmered before tearing away from the circular ribs and pouring back into the center in a swirling mass. A silver sphere hovered in the center before blinking out. The dewars bracketing the portal puffed a few clouds of super cold air before subsiding into silence.
That was that. Bile soured his tongue, but he swallowed down the bitter taste of failure and strode across the room. “The whole thing is pointless.”
He slammed open the door to the lobby. Four more steps carried him across the exit. Two alarms beeped, reminding him his departure hadn’t followed proper procedures.
He was out of flying fucks to give. A cool breeze swirled around him and swept a crumpled envelope and bits of a Styrofoam cup across the weed-infested parking lot. Although Godmother had seemed pleased, today had been a total waste of time.
If it really was a portal to the other side, why had no one else bothered coming through? He stabbed the key into the lock of his car door. After a twist of the wrist, he yanked open the door and slid behind the wheel. He slapped it with enough force his palms tingled and pain rocketed up his arm. A drop of blood smeared in the steering wheel cover.
He turned over his hand and inspected his palm. The cut his mother’s brooch caused split open again. His head ached. But how could she have the brooch at all? Sure she had worn it at her viewing, but he had removed it before her burial as she had instructed in her will.
Leaning over, he opened the glove compartment and lifted the small box holding his handgun to grab the brown bag underneath. Paper crinkled as he pulled it out and opened the rolled-down edge. Purple velvet caught the late afternoon sunshine as he pulled out the bag inside. A quick flick of his wrist later, and the brooch filled his palm. The bent corner matched the cut on his flesh from the last encounter.
The rules of the dead world must not be the same as those in this world. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. This world kind of sucked. Maybe on the other side, a person only had to think of something, for it to come true.
Imagine a world without disappointing anyone. That would definitely be his idea of heaven. Heaven. He shook his head, returned the brooch to its bag and stuffed them both in his glove box before slamming the door shut.
What was he thinking? With the atmosphere on the other side, he couldn’t live. No one alive could. He needed to find another planet in this universe. Then he’d have kept his promise to his parents, and they would be proud.
He jammed the key into the ignition and twisted viciously. The engine coughed to life. The radio blasted on.
“—The senator’s wife was driving south on Interstate Seventeen when she collided headfirst with a wrong-way driver. She was pronounced—”
He had enough of death. Eli poked the power button. His ears rang with the banging of his blood in his veins. Caffeine made his palms sweat and his heart race. Throwing the car in gear, he pulled out of the parking lot. Food first. Home. Then sleep. Tomorrow, he’d tackle the problem again.
Tomorrow, he’d search for a world he didn’t have to die to get into.
Linda Andrews 