Deadly Designs (Design Series) (6 page)

So back to Paxton's lab and see if his stylus would be able to get more information on the security here.

Frustrated, he tapped in the code to take him back to Paxton's lab, the musical notes filling the large space. The echo was surprising but with so little ambient noise it reverberated around the room. As he readied to enter the last digit of the sequence, he heard a grating sound. Whirling around, he crouched, ready for an attack...and saw no one.

A huge door had opened. But no one came in. Were they waiting on the other side? He crept up behind the door and waited. Nothing. Peering through the crack between the door and the wall didn't help, only blackness showed on the other side. Of course the light was on his side. Taking a deep breath, he slipped out of the room and melted into the shadows on the other side. It took way too long for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they finally did, he found he was alone in another large, empty room.

Could the notes of his codex…have opened the door? That would mean they had music here. Or the door mechanism had been triggered by his movements. That didn't make sense either. Prisoners walked around all the time. The only other explanation he could imagine was a failsafe mechanism that opened automatically after a certain length of time. So that no one was left in there forever. That concept was kind of reassuring. But not much.

Choosing to go left, he crept down the hallway.

Storey was here somewhere.

***

Storey studied the cupboard passageway. Dare she enter? How could she not?

Closing her eyes she called to the stylus.

The faintest of buzzes answered her. Shit. It was down here. The many thick walls might explain the stylus's inability to communicate. Could it die? Maybe it went to sleep or something until a new soul could bond to it. Maybe that's why it had bonded to her so strongly when she'd initially found it. So it would survive. In which case, what if it bonded with the Louer who'd found it here?

That wouldn't be good.

Decision made.

Focusing on the buzz, she strode into the dark tunnel. "Stylus, hold on. I'm coming. Stay strong. Stay connected."

A hum sounded. Stronger than before, but still indistinct. Even though she couldn't see what she walked on or anything two feet in front of her, she knew as strongly as she'd ever understood anything in her life, she needed to travel this pathway to her stylus.

She could only hope she'd find it in time to save them both.

Picking up the pace, she trotted down the corridor.

The end of the road came up and smacked her in the face – hard. She tumbled backwards. "Damn." Sitting up she rubbed her head and right elbow, sore from cracking hard on the ground. Getting up slowly, she put out a hand to touch the wall or door in front of her. "Door open."

Silently, the door moved toward her, forcing her back. The stream of light widened. An odd shuffling sound came through, soft and gentle, but unidentifiable.

Was there someone in the next room?

She closed her eyes and tried to control her gasping breath. The last thing she needed was for them to hear her. On the other hand, if they had her stylus and thought they were going to keep it, they had better think again.

So not going to happen. Not here. Her mother would be devastated at never knowing what had happened. Chances were good that Storey would become just another runaway teenager that was never heard from again.

Peering around the corner of the doorway, she realized she'd reached a small anteroom. Maybe it would be a sitting room off a bedroom in her dimension. Another weird table sat off to one side covered in items she couldn't decipher. Almost everything had a neutral color to it. The sheer drabness of this world hurt her creative soul, her artist soul. Where were the reds, greens and blues?

Very odd. She quickly scanned the room. It was empty. But there was an open doorway ahead of her. Maybe the person had gone into there.

She crept over to the table, ducking out of sight at the slightest sound. Lifting her head slightly, she checked to see if she was still alone.

Yes. She reached up to the stack of items on the table and picked up one for a closer look. It seemed somewhat like a cup, except too big for her small fingers to hold comfortably. The next item appeared to be made of the same material, almost a thin sandstone slice. It resembled a tiny box of some kind. It was also empty.

Weird materials.

Weird items.

Weird place.

The items were odd sized, too. The table was higher than she was used to; not that she had to stand on tiptoes to look down on it but she'd have a hard time doing any work on it comfortably. What's the chance her stylus was in the jumble? She didn't recognize it. And she didn't want to move around too much and alert whoever was in the next room. Hunkering back down, she searched the area again, and spotted another wall of cupboards like the last one she'd entered. And this one was open showing shelves on the one side. Closing her eyes she called out to the stylus in a soft whisper, "Are you there?"

A buzz answered her. Stronger, clearer, but still indistinct because she had no way to write the answers. She grabbed her zipper pull and held it against what must be a seat butted up against the side of the table and asked again.

Slowly her hand moved.
Yes.

Oh thank heavens for that.

"Where are you?"

Don't know.

Of course it didn't. Neither did she. But...it was a computer-like thingy so maybe it could send out a beacon. "Can you send out a signal, a noise to let me know where you are?"

Instantly, there was an odd ringtone going off in her head. Or in the air? No, surely not. She spun around looking for the source. There, in the cupboards. Within seconds, she'd raced toward the spot, scared to alert whoever was in the other room to her presence. There were deep shelves inside. She quickly searched them. The stylus just looked like an old carpenter's pencil. Dull and dark, it was hard to see in the dark.

The noise was definitely louder here. Excited, she dropped to her knees and checked the bottom spaces. The noise increased to almost deafening now. A good sign. The last few items were almost recognizable. A ball, maybe a bat? A bunch of toys like a ball on string or wire and a wooden post. Like a child's closet. Off to one side were tablets of some kind. Maybe for writing on, like miniature chalkboards. Even chalk would be a huge help. By the time she'd moved to the next cubby hole the music in her head changed from a weird ringtone to an almost soothing lullaby.

"Does that mean I'm almost there, Stylus?"

The lullaby increased in volume. It increased so much, she could hardly stand it. She shoved her hand into the jumbled mess and closed around a half dozen objects.

Something made her fingers tingle.

The lullaby came to a dead stop.

Warmth shot up her arm. She withdrew her handful until she could see what she'd snagged clearly.

Her stylus!

Joy shot through her.
Yes!

And then she took another look and stopped. How could this be possible?

There, clutched in her fingers, were three pencils that could have all been styluses. And maybe they were? Who would have stashed these in here, lost and forgotten? These gems could have saved the Louers so much hardship?

They might
not
be styluses, but as she studied each one, the magical lettering shone on the side of each one. Unbelievable. Did they have souls attached to them too?

And if there were three, what was the chance there were more?

It was important to find every one. How she knew that, she didn't know. But she did. Tucking those three securely into her pocket, she dove into the bottom of the cupboard and sorted through the mess. And found two more. Unbelievable. Now she didn't dare leave any behind. There were people in there, after all.

Knowing she didn't have the time to spare, but unable to help herself, she went back for a third and final search, and found one really old looking stylus jammed into the joinery at the very back. Six styluses. Pulling back slightly, a wary eye to the open door, she moved over and checked every cupboard, as fast and as systematically as she could in order to not miss one. Ten panicked minutes later, she held a broken one in her hand. No others though. Now to safety.

She ran across the room and back into the open doorway from where she'd entered.

Just as she hit the safety of the darkness, she heard a loud grunt behind her.

Shit.

***

Eric's eyes finally adjusted to the dark as he paced forward, instinct keeping him moving in the same direction. He almost sensed Storey up ahead. Many of his people had strong psychic powers. His society used healers in their hospitals and people with an affinity for plants and growing in the gardens and greenhouses. Those that had a specialty were given the means to develop it as far as they could.

To the best of his knowledge, he possessed a weird navigational sense. It allowed him to find his way home from most places and could move toward something even if he had no idea where it was.

Unfortunately, he'd had little chance to develop that sense. And as it wasn't one of the known talents, his ability hadn't been given much training time. He'd yet to even mention it to Storey. She'd find it fascinating he was sure. And unlike his father, he doubted she'd laugh at it.

So he couldn't heal sick people or tell the future or lift items with his mind, like some of his people could, but surely being good at geography and navigation had to count for something. Of course, that's why he'd been put into Ranger training.

Eric's codex lit up like a Christmas tree. "What the..."

He kept running while trying to understand the odd number sequences and lights. Was someone trying to contact him? Or was someone trying to navigate toward his last known location? The codexes were capable of so much more than what they were commonly used for that he often forgot about their other capabilities. Still, not many people would know about those extras either...except Paxton.

Should he go back to the lab and check? Or could he remember how to send a coded message? Something he hadn't done since his training days. Neither could he tap in Toranee code while running. Toranee was old in his world, and similar in some ways to the Morse code of Storey's dimension.

He wondered if one had spawned the other? Another piece of information his people had taken from her dimension?

That made it one of the more basic languages. And he couldn't remember much of it. Breathing hard, he came to a stop and crouched down out of sight. He lowered the volume on his unit and struggled to tap out a simple message to Paxton. It took several tries and head bangs, as Storey would say, to get out a quick note.

In Louers' world. On Storey's trail. Can't come back. Problems.

Eric sent it, hoping the last word would be understood. Then, hating the time he'd lost, he returned to trotting down the corridor. Storey was up ahead. Somewhere.

He had yet to see any Louers here, and that didn't feel right either. Surely they hadn't managed a complete migration already. They'd need time to move everyone and everything over.

Cold seeped into his arms and legs, even with the energy he was expending. The dark and the dirt, the smell and the cold, all combined to make this a very unwelcoming place.

Quite similar to Storey's first foray into his world actually. She'd landed in a big cave, a major crossing his people used regularly to move through dimensions and across his world. The crossing would have looked similar to what he'd seen here. Dirt walls, a room that went on seemingly forever – and all without seeing a soul.

Maybe this was a similar type of place in the Louer world. It's not like he'd had a chance to explore to know for sure.

His respect for Storey zoomed up another notch.

Now if he could just find her.

S
torey bolted through the dark tunnel, terrified she'd trip and drop the styluses. In her mind, she knew they could be just empty shells, but the personal connection to
her
stylus was real and precious. How could she desert the others – just in case?

She glanced behind her, scared she was being followed. Which didn't appear to be the case. Her footsteps slowed as she approached the next room. Why not?

Maybe they didn't mean her any harm.

Shit. She hated it when her softer side came out. For all she knew this was the last Louer here. Damn it. How bad could they be? They'd kept styluses and kids' toys. Kids' toys.

Her stomach twisted. What if that had been a child? A Louer child. Were there such things? Of course. They were people. Just a different kind.

If there was a child, was there an adult with it? Or had the child been left behind alone? By accident or on purpose?

With a heavy sigh, she realized she couldn't leave without knowing. Who knew if there was anyone left here to help them out?

Too bad all the styluses she'd picked up couldn't help. She held them gently in her hand. No heat emanated from them, like Eric experienced when he'd held her stylus. Would her stylus know if they were empty? Maybe. Now if only she had paper. The wall might work again, but something softer would be easier. Like her missing sketchbook.

With her stylus in her hand, she delighted when the sense of loss, of being alone, shifted to a full sense of connectedness. That instant knowing that this stylus was hers. Although identical in appearance to the others there was no doubt in her mind that she held her stylus. There was a link between them – strong, clearer than before. She didn't understand why. And didn't care.

"Stylus? Are you okay?"

She placed her stylus against the wall and read the faint impression in the dirt.

Yes. Getting stronger.

"Do you need much longer before you are back to full strength?"

No. Not long.

Whatever that meant in terms of time for a stylus. Rather than wasting time trying to sort it out, she asked if it had been a Louer who'd put the stylus in the closet.