CHAPTER 7-1
1504 Words
CHAPTER 7Sitting in the back seat of Diana’s Ford Edge SUV with Ping so Sam could sit next to their mother, Mara’s mind wandered, getting caught up in one of those cross-realm logic loops that made her feel crazy. In her realm, her mother had purchased this vehicle after her Toyota SUV had been destroyed by Mara’s nascent—and explosive—abilities following a meteor attack that had trapped her in the vehicle and threatened to suffocate her. Since her counterpart here had chosen not to embrace her abilities to the same degree, clearly she didn’t blow up Mom’s old vehicle. Something else must have happened to it. That’s when she thought about their house.
“Where in Oregon City do you live?” Mara asked.
Diana glanced at her via the rearview mirror and recited the address of the craftsman that had been torched by the dragon in Mara’s realm. “Why do you ask?”
“She misses her old house and was hoping to see it again,” Sam said. Twisting around to look at his sister, he added, “Sounds like the old homestead is waiting for us.”
“I wouldn’t say I miss it so much as I wondered if it still exists,” Mara said.
“Why wouldn’t it?” Diana asked.
“My daughter burned down the house in our realm,” Sam said.
Diana frowned. “Your daughter? Aren’t you a little young to have children?”
Mara rolled her eyes, slumped back in her seat and looked at Ping. “Why does he always blurt out things like that? I bet he’ll end up being a tabloid reporter. He has an affinity for screaming headlines.”
Sam continued, “She was from the future. No, that’s not right. The one who burned down the house was a dragon. She was not from the future but a different realm where everyone is a dragon. The other one was from the future, and she was human.”
Diana looked doubtful. “What? Which one was your daughter? The dragon or the girl from the future?”
“Both,” he said.
While Sam did his best to tell the story, Ping leaned over and whispered to Mara. “I’m a little concerned about these references to magic and covens and such. People with misplaced beliefs based in unscientific principles can be volatile and dangerous. We might want to limit our exposure as much as possible.”
“The Coven has grabbed the only person who can recreate my biological body. Besides, if what the other Mara said is true, I’m the cause of this whole situation. The Coven broke away from the luminaries when I returned the Aphotis—and they think she is responsible for destroying their beliefs. What am I supposed to do? Just disappear into my own realm and leave this Mara to deal with the acolytes and bowraiths on her own?”
“Based on our recent experiences, I know better than to think you would withdraw in the face of adversity. However, my point is, we should not allow ourselves to be drawn into a dangerous belief system that could be our undoing. We must stay grounded in the principles of metaphysics, or we’ll surely be lost in a swamp of superstition and fear.”
“The magic stuff weirds you out. I get it,” Mara said. “But we’re up to our necks in it at the moment, so we’ll just have to tough it out. Don’t worry. I’ll remember what you taught me and not get distracted by superstitious nonsense. Better?”
“Yes.”
Their vehicle had stopped in a driveway that wasn’t next to their house in Oregon City. As a matter of fact, the entire neighborhood seemed different, tucked into a patch of dense trees and shrubs.
“Where are we?” Mara asked.
“I told you—we need to talk to my friend and get some direction before we approach the Coven,” Diana said.
As they stepped out of the SUV, Mara caught a glimpse of the house, the rambler with the out-of-place elaborate arched front door that sparked her memory.
As the four of them walked up the driveway, Mara said, “This is Ned Pastor’s house. Is he your friend?”
“Do you know him?” Diana asked.
“He’s a metallurgist-jeweler friend of my mother’s who shares her New Age beliefs,” Mara said. “Tall lanky guy. He fabricated the device I use to travel through realms.”
Ping interjected, “You travel through realms using your own abilities, not because of the talisman on which you focus.”
“Whatever,” Mara said. “Anyway, I’ve met him a few times—at least my realm’s version of him.”
They stopped at the front door, and Diana banged the heavy ornate knocker. “Maybe he’s not home.”
Sam raised his nose into the air and said, “I smell smoke. Something’s burning.”
A cloud of smoke curled around the corner of the house and floated toward them.
Mara asked, “Does Ned have a workshop out back? In my realm, he does.”
Diana nodded toward a path that led around the house. “A small building is out back. Ned calls it his study. It’s where he reads and practices his craft.”
“Come on.” Mara ran down the path, not waiting for the others who followed several paces behind.
When they cleared the corner of the house, they found the backyard filled with smoke so dense that they could barely make out the contours of the small building, but it was clearly the source of the haze.
As Mara opened the door, flames leaped out, wrapping around the frame, licking at her hand still holding the doorknob. She peered inside and yelled, “Ned? Are you in there?”
Diana, Sam and Ping arrived and stood next to her.
Mara saw movement through the smoke and fire, a figure stirring on the ground next to a burning armchair in a distant corner of the single room. Carpet and draperies fed the flames that filled the interior—clearly not the workshop she had seen back in her own realm.
Mara made a move to enter anyway.
Ping grabbed her arm. “You cannot go in there.”
“I think he’s trapped or unable to escape.”
“Then help him but don’t put yourself in danger.”
Mara looked inside again and focused on the writhing figure on the ground. A burst of light engulfed him, and he disappeared. Outside, in the grass a few feet from the path, another flash of brilliance appeared. When it dissipated, a man with charred and smoldering clothing lay on the ground, slowly rolling to his side, curling into a fetal position. He hugged something to his chest.
“Ned!” Diana ran to him and knelt down.
The man’s face was blistered so badly his eyes were swollen shut, and his lips appeared fused. As the cool air of the outdoors touched his skin, he began to shiver and shake. A muffled wheezing sound came from his chest as his blackened nostrils flared.
Diana turned to Mara and said, “He’s having trouble breathing. Can you help him? Do you have healing powers?”
Mara shook her head. “No, I can’t heal him.” Her gazed shifted to Ping and said, “But I think I know someone who might be able to.”
“What?” Ping asked.
“Bohannon cured you after I made your wings—your arms—disappear during the battle with the dragon over the highway in Portland. He got the healing ability from Denton Proctor when Denton healed him. That means he passed it on to you when he healed you.”
Diana looked at him with hope.
Ping pulled Mara aside and whispered, “My body and Consciousness were merged with that of the dragon when Bohannon healed me. When we were severed, it is likely that ability was lost or might have gone with the dragon when it was pushed back to its own realm. Besides, I am biologically distinct from you and people in your realm. We don’t know that Denton’s healing abilities can be passed on to people from my realm. I have never healed anyone.”
“Have you tried?” Mara asked.
“No, it never occurred to me.”
“Well, it’s time to put it to the test.”
“Mara, I’m not sure how comfortable I am—”
“Don’t talk to me about being uncomfortable with having abilities you don’t want. I promise that I’ve got a lot more to say on the subject than you do. That man is dying. What harm will it do to try? The worse thing that could happen is it might not work.”
Sam had leaned in to eavesdrop. “She’s right. You have to try,” he said.
* * *
* * * *
“Very well,” Ping said. He walked over to Ned Pastor’s prone form and knelt next to Diana. “I have never done this before. There is every possibility this won’t work.”
Diana nodded. “I understand.”
“I don’t want you to be disappointed,” he said.
“Just do what you can,” she said and stood, giving Ping room to get closer.
He took a deep breath, placed his hands onto Ned Pastor’s shoulders and concentrated on the healing he hoped would pass through his hands. For several moments, nothing happened, so he closed his eyes, cleared his mind and focused more intently.
“He’s stopped breathing,” Diana said, her voice quivering.
Ping felt a tingling in his palms that seeped from him into the body beneath them.
Behind him someone gasped.
Ping’s hands melted into a dusty gray suspension, a gelatinous goo that spread across Ned’s chest. Seconds later, Ping’s arms melted away, and more of the gray mass flowed over Ned’s neck and head, and down over his torso.
Diana asked, “Is this supposed to happen? It looks like Mr. Ping is melting away.”
Mara shook her head and raised a finger to her lips. She whispered, “It sure looks different from when Bohannon or Denton had healed someone, but I hope that is because of Ping’s unique physiology.”
By the time the flowing grayness had encased Ned’s body, Ping was gone, his own body liquefied and poured into the effort of curing the man on the ground, like a living salve.
Sam leaned to his sister’s ear. “It’s not supposed to work like this.”
“Just give him a minute,” she said.
* * *
- Writer
