Paranormal Realities Box Set (22 page)

The chain was half off when Rom moved as
if to rush at Quinn. Billy pivoted and fired. The bullet hit the ground just in
front of Rom’s feet.

“No,” I screamed.

“Stay back.” Billy waved the gun back and
forth between us.” I don’t want anything ruining this deal.”

“Don’t be a fool,” I cried. “It doesn’t
work that way. The ghoul has to go back through the vortex for Juliette to
return.”

Billy laughed. “Oh, he’ll go back all
right. He just wants to take you with him.”

By this point, the chain had been
unwrapped about two-thirds of the way, with only the upper third of the ghoul
still held captive. The ghoul’s hands were free of the chain but constrained by
the fact that the chain wrapped from the forearm upward. Quinn had to lay the
revolver on the ground to work it the rest of the way off.

Just then, Zen charged at Billy. The gun
went off and Zen grunted but continued forward and brought Billy down in a
tackle. Zen managed to wrestle the gun from Billy and trained the weapon on the
jerk with one hand as he held a bleeding wound on his side with the other.

As Zen tackled Billy, Rom took advantage
and rushed at Quinn. Rom grasped his shoulder and brought Quinn around. Rom
struck Quinn with a punch to the nose. I grabbed the edges of the chain and
used it to drag the ghoul stumbling toward the vortex.

“Get the ghoul, Quinn,” Billy shouted.

“Shut up.” Zen jabbed Billy with the gun.
“I’d love to have an excuse to shoot you.”

Trying to be careful not to get too close
to the vortex, I circled to the back of the ghoul and pushed him forward. He
teetered for a few seconds on the edge of the rotating whirlpool center and the
expanding edges of the vortex began to pull him in. The ghoul’s right leg
disappeared to the ankle. I scanned the surface of the vortex for Juliette’s
corresponding right foot. Nothing. The ghoul quickly sank and his body, now
trapped to the waist, began to circle moving ever closer to the center of the
vortex.

Still no sign of Juliette. My
stepsister’s lower half should be visible. Why wasn’t she coming through the
portal?

The ghoul’s upper half seeped away. As
the top of his head vanished through the portal, wrapped with the chain and the
silver four-leaf clover charm attached to it, I knew with certainty Juliette
wasn’t coming through. Somehow the entanglement between my stepsister and the
prince’s ghoul had been broken.

Now what were we going to do? With the
ghoul gone, we had nothing to trade for Juliette.

“Nooooo,” Billy shouted. He threw Zen off
and leaped to his feet before running head long toward the vortex. “Juliette.
Juliette. Where are you?”

“Stop,” I cried.

He was getting too close.

The vortex expanded and began to nip at
my feet, forcing me to backpedal away. Unfortunately, this took me further not
only from the whirlpool but also from Billy. There was no way for me to block
him without getting caught in the whirlpool myself.

Rom tossed Quinn to the side and ran at
Billy.

“No,” I yelled to Rom. “It’s too late.”

Billy’s running front foot hit the
whirlpool. When it did, he sunk like a stone hitting a pond and was gone.
Immediately, an ethereal feminine figure catapulted from the vortex in a
running stride. I only had time to note the long whitish blonde hair and the
flash of yellow eyes before she dashed away.

Rom made a grab for her but the figure
evaded Rom’s reach. Zen, still lying wounded, rolled to try to block her but
she flew over him like a track runner over a hurdle and then disappeared down
the tunnel.

White hair. Yellow eyes. Just like the
demon-angel my father talked about.

* * * * *

Zen leaned across his kitchen table as
Rom tended to his wound. The bullet had merely nicked Zen’s side. Thank
goodness for Zen’s medical supplies. We wouldn’t want this gunshot reported.

I called home. Mom answered on the first
ring. She questioned the noise she heard in the background

“Yeah, Mom,” I said into my cell phone.
“I’m not alone. I’m with Rom. We’re—um—studying.”

Rom glanced over his shoulder and shot me
a quirky smile.

“Honey, keep to the studying and no more
umming.”

Obviously, she thought we were making
out. If only that were true. I’d love to be umming with Rom rather than whatever
it was we were facing.

“Remember our talk about the birds and
the bees,” Mom continued. “You’re too young a bird to have to worry about the
bee’s stinger.”

“Ugh, Mom. Gross,” I moaned. “I’m not
doing any of that.”

“Good,” she said. “How did the hearing go?
Are you okay?”

“I’m fine and the hearing was fine."
After a moment's hesitation, I continued, “Well, there wasn’t a hearing because
it got postponed.”

“Was your dad there? Did you see him?”

“Let’s not talk about that right now,
Mom. I’ll be home by curfew.”
Or not
, I thought as I ended the call.

Rom applied tape to the edges of the
gauze and stepped away from Zen.

“Now let’s see your arm.” Zen stood.

Rom shook his head. “There is no
usefulness to this.”

"Really," I pleaded. "We
need to see it."

After another moment of hesitation, Rom
offered his arm to me.

The angry lines were now red and purple
and had expanded outside the confines of the Band-Aid. With trembling fingers,
I peeled back the covering and saw the wound still had not closed over. A greenish
puss mixed with the blood oozed from the site of the bite.

“Omigod, Rom.” The words rushed out of me
before I could stop them.

“We’ll pour some more of this heavy duty
antiseptic wound cleaner in there and apply a bigger bandage.” Zen turned away but
not before I saw the expression of shock and fear that crossed his face.

“Yeah,” I said, trying for a calm tone.
“Take more antibiotics too.”

“These efforts are no use, I fear.” Rom’s
face had gone white. Even his lips lacked color.

“You don’t know that.” I took his hand.
“That book was written before modern medicine. So how do we know antibiotics
won’t work?”

Wrapping my arms around him I squeezed
Rom as tight as I could until his arms came up around me in an answering hug.

“Let us take you to the hospital,” I
suggested.

“No.” Rom set me away from him. “I know
inside me no good would come from this and we have not time. In less than
thirty-four hours the portal becomes impermeable.”

“What do we do now?” Crossing to the
cabinets, I extracted a glass, turned on the cold tap, and filled the glass
with water.

Behind me, I heard Rom gasp as Zen
applied the antiseptic. Somehow I couldn’t watch.

The two of them were silent. Finally, Zen
answered. “I think we should give up.”

Petra, Chase and Senji arrived with the
average ruckus that always seemed to accompany them. Without knocking the three
tromped in.

“What did we miss?” Senji pushed the
glasses up his nose and shifted his gaze from Rom, to Zen, to me, and back
again with eager expectation.

* * * * *

“Where’s Juliette?” I asked Prince
Leopold when the fog cleared in the psychomanteum’s mirror.

“Ah, dear Kizzy.” The prince moved closer
so that we were face-to-face. If the glass of the mirror—and a
universe—hadn’t separated us, I could have reached out and touched his
devilishly handsome face. “Do you wish to continue our chess game?”

“No,” I replied. “I wish to see my
stepsister.”

“Do you wish to see the visitor newly
arrived at the royal court?”

Billy. “Not really. Just Juliette.”

“Ah. Shame.” The prince strolled to one
of the sofas. He lowered himself to a sitting position to stretch his legs out
in front of him. The prince was dressed for riding and his leather boots, with
gold spurs, thudded against the Aubusson rug. “Juliette is not available at
present.”

“Is she still at court?”

“Yes, of course.” He gave a wave of the
hand dismissing my question and then a gleam appeared in his eye. “Have you met
Namia yet?”

“Who?”

“My subject who visits your world in the place
of Mr. Broadrick,” the prince said with a chuckle. “Although I believe you have
received the better of that exchange. This Billy person is the most atrocious
horse’s arse.”

“Tool is the current slang describing
Billy,” I said. “Or douchebag"

“Douchebag. I like that,” the prince said
with a satisfied nod. “Oh Kizzy. I do so enjoy our conversations.”

“So Namia is a ghoul like Stephan?”

“Yes,” the prince admitted. “However, I
am hoping she will have more success than the hapless Stephan.”

“Back to Juliette,” I interrupted. “When
can I see her?”

“You know the answer to that my lovely
Kizzy.” The prince rose and strode toward the mirror once more. “You must come
here in person.” He smiled. “I promise you the most cordial of welcomes.” The
prince licked his lips. “And do bring your friend Rom. He needs to come here.”

“What do you mean?” I feared I knew the
answer.

“Do not be coy.” The prince turned to a
nearby table and an enormous arrangement of flowers. After extracting one long
stem from the vase, the prince examined it from the silvery leaves at its base
to the mauve flowers clustered along its stalk. He twirled the stem between his
fingers. “Rom was bitten and probably about now is beginning to feel the
effects. Soon it may be too late for the Downy Woundwort to work its magic.”

Staring with fascination, I recognized
the flower he held. I thought about his words and my mind raced with
possibilities.

“Come to me Kizzy and I will cure him.”

The fog entered the mirror, obscuring the
prince from my view as his last word echoed into silence. Unconsciously, I had
stepped back out of the range of the mirror.

I opened the door and stumbled into the
corridor and down the stairs before scrambling around the corner into the
dining room. Chase and Senji were hunched in chairs in front of the computer.
Petra stood over their shoulders reading a text. Rom sat at the table with his
head resting on its top.

“Rom,” I yelled. “Zen, Petra, everybody!
I have a great idea.”

Zen came from the kitchen holding a
wooden spoon and an apron. “What?”

“I’m going to Dorcha.”

“I thought you said you had a great
idea.” Petra frowned. “That isn’t even a good one.”

“Accord,” Rom said, raising his head and
showing me weary eyes. “As a Clavis you must stay far from Dorcha.”

“Think about it.” I slid into a chair
opposite him. “Juliette is there. Why not go there and get her back. And now
there's more reason to go there.”

“What reason?” Zen asked.

“I’ve seen Downy Woundwort in the
psychomanteum. Rom’s cure is there.”

Every eye glanced at the large white
bandage covering a third of Rom’s forearm.

“Not acceptable,” Rom shook his head.
“The dangers are overwhelming.”

“Even if you entered Dorcha, how could
you be sure you’d find Juliette? You said yourself you’ve not seen her in the
palace lately,” Zen pointed out. “The prince obviously did something to stop
her from coming through the portal when his ghoul was returned.”

“I don’t know. But at this point this is
the only possible way left for setting things right. I’m going.”

“Well, there may be one way left that we
haven’t explored." Zen gazed at the ceiling while scratching his head with
the end of the spoon. “Time travel.”

* * * * *

“Hey, is time travel really possible?”
Chase asked as he took a piece of bread from the bag in the middle of the table.

“It is if you have the right wormhole.”
Zen sloshed a scoop of chili into the bowl and handed it to me.

“Dude." Chase chuckled. "Show
me to the wormhole. I could so use a better grade on my last math exam.”

“Dude you could take that exam a million
times and not get a better grade,” Senji scoffed.

“Wormhole?” I took a bite of the chili
and swallowed it without chewing. The heat felt good sliding against the back
of my throat and the spiciness cleared my sinuses. “Like in space? Those kinda
wormholes?”

“What good is a wormhole in space going
to do?” Petra asked, accepting a bowl from Zen. “I mean you don’t have a
spaceship.” She laughed and glanced around her. “Do you?”

“Not all the wormholes are in space.” Zen
dug into his own bowl. He gulped down a spoonful of chili. “A wormhole is a
bridge or shortcut through space and time within this dimension.”