by Gary Starta
“I know. He had had a son in your world. Things are much different there. There is no acceptance. And although Gabriel’s birth had not been planned, I believe the judge did nothing to coerce Briana into giving him a child. It would have been difficult to fool a witch. It is a tragedy. Still, I don’t feel guilty for not giving Manners what he wanted. I had a career. And even though I am a witch as well, being a FBI agent is job one.”
“So let me get this straight. Manners takes up with your double in my universe as a consolation prize-since he couldn’t have you, he comforted himself with a look-alike?”
“In short, that’s true. Not entirely accurate. Your Briana could never quite be me. My Caitlin could never quite be you. A parallel universe or altered reality does not allow for such mimicry. If it did, I surmise there would be no need for other dimensions.”
In a strange way I understood this. “Yet Manners does not have a double-in my world?”
“Correct. Not everyone you knew exists here. We don’t claim to understand it, but we respect it. That’s why not many of us cross the dimensions. Yet Manners did it, out of love.”
“Was it-love-or just obsession? His relationship with the other Briana met the same fate. They became just friends. If that’s true, maybe destiny cannot be changed. If so, the same result happens no matter what universe you’re in.”
“I’m not sure about that. If we had had a child, I think we still would be together, romantically.”
“My God,” I said. “Have you ever told him this?”
“Only you. So I hope this admission gains me some of your trust.”
I put my cup and saucer on Briana’s glass coffee table and shook my head. “How could he abandon his child like that?”
“I don’t think he can even answer that. He kept that baby’s blanket as a memento to cherish Gabriel. And although he believes his son should stand punishment for his crimes, I know he will never stop loving him.”
Okay. So this Briana had just made a pretty strong case for Manners. Maybe he did have some good intentions after all. Still, I had bigger concerns at the moment. Finding Mollini… meeting my alternate…not to mention finding a way home…
I took a shower. Glorious hot water, comforting and soothing, fortunately existed here in this world as well. After wrapping myself in a luxurious green terrycloth robe, I raced out of the bathroom to find Briana and hit her with another nagging concern. In fact, a panicked concern would be more like it.
“Is Manners psychic? Is that how he saw Mollini leaving through the portal?” Thoughts of violation danced prevalently in my clouded mind.
She understood my urgency, cupping my right hand in hers.
“No. Manners cannot see inside of you. He doesn’t know any more than you’ve voluntarily shared with him.”
“Then how did he see?”
“Again, he had a shared memory.”
“With whom?”
“He believes it to be some sort of demon, expressly summoned to free Mollini from your world’s prison, enhancing his powers for this very end. He could only share this memory from mind locking with the demon as it came out of the portal back into this world. He risked his life doing it. That’s how much he cherishes life here. He probably told you he never forces himself on his women. It’s true. They willingly share with him. I willingly shared with him. He has a conscience, Caitlin.”
“That’s all good. But he chose not to share this information about the demon with me. Why?”
“Because he’s concerned for you, he didn’t want to flood you with such detail, not without allowing me to help you first. And he also thinks you might go off half cocked trying to chase two demons armed only with anger.”
Okay, so he knew my nature…
I thought about Manners’s actions, some of my volcanic makeup cooling to harmless ash. He had garnered some of my respect in the last few moments. Not enough to ever pardon his lifestyle, though. If this demon did help free Mollini-to what end? I realized I couldn’t answer the big question without asking the little ones first. As Briana let go of my hand and led me to a seat at her kitchen table, things began to make some sense to me. Possibly this demon-as Manners called it-could present itself in human form; maybe even fool prison guards to have allowed it visitation rights. That could explain how it empowered Mollini, to aid his escape. Nevertheless, more questions flooded my mind. Who was the being posing as Agent Grant? Why did it pursue Mollini? And just how many damn demons existed in this altered reality?
“Briana,” I asked bluntly,” Are you human?”
She took a seat across from me. I caught her reflection mirrored in a toaster oven adjacent to her. Even distorted, the reflection led me to believe her to be real...human. Even after the past day’s events, my mind still found it difficult to grip one simple fact, that demons actually existed, and apparently in larger quantities than I cared to imagine.
“I am human. Caitlin is human. But not everyone here… is.”
As her statement faded, I took time to digest.
“I know,” I said. “Manners assured me Caitlin was not only human, but very much like me.” I thought about the way he said it, with some sort of pride.
“Caitlin, the judge is fond of you because the Caitlin of this world inadvertently introduced the two of us. Because of this, he is fond of you as well.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. You just said we are not equals. We are different from our counterparts.”
“Don’t you see, Caitlin? Manners has as much difficulty processing this concept as you do, he thinks very much like a human. He’s conflicted just like a human. He even risked exposing his demon nature in another world to find another Briana there. It seems humans and demons both behave very irrationally. And do you want to know why we all behave so irrationally?”
I nodded in understanding coming to a universal conclusion. Neither us of had to utter a word. She meant love. Demons could love. It’s why she kept referring to Manners as the judge. I had to believe the part time work he conducted at cat shows, made this Briana see a softer side of the Manners, adoration.
“So Manners continued risking exposure in my world even after his relationship with Briana turned platonic?” Briana nodded acknowledging my deduction to be correct.
“Despite this fact,” Briana said, “it seems Manners still holds onto a desperate hope that the other Briana’s love for him will one day resurface.”
Okay, sounded like a human. Yet walking and talking wise, Manners still resembled demon.
“You need my help, Caitlin.” Briana then left the table, rummaging through what I believed to be a kitchen junk drawer. So clutter existed in altered realities as well.
She returned to the table with a vial, holding some clear liquid. In her other hand, she held a dropper.
“Here. Let me put a few drops of Owl on your tongue.”
She said it so matter of fact. Like I would really allow someone to put a strange liquid in my mouth, no less from an--did I hear her correctly--owl?”
She explained Owl to be one of many essences, natural, holistic remedies taken from flowers to restore the body’s health and bring about peace of mind. I forced my mouth open, tilted my head back and she inserted the drops underneath my tongue.
“You’ll be able to see things that are not normally seen,” she explained. “This will be most important in this world.”
“I’ve already been able to see through my empathic abilities,” I rebutted. I recounted my story about the imposter who rode with me on the plane. “I don’t think I can trust myself. I didn’t see whoever the being was who had posed himself as Agent Grant.”
“That’s understandable. A spell clouded your vision. Don’t blame yourself, Caitlin. Learn from it. Gain strength from it.”
Damn it. She sounded so goddess like; so damn holistic. Tara would have loved her. That memory of Tara suddenly gave me courage to trust Briana, the witch/FBI agent.
“I’m not giving you this just
to deal with your visions or strange demonic encounters. You need this in preparation for meeting Caitlin. I know how you think. You need to see for yourself. This will provide you some clarity in this endeavor.”
Hmm. Okay, she sounded authoritative, yet comforting, like a trusted practitioner--a practitioner of what, still debatable.
“So you can still read my aura, if so, you probably know I don’t totally trust that this other Caitlin is totally human.”
“There’s nothing wrong with harboring some doubt. It’s what makes us investigators at heart.”
In that moment, I shared a bond with this Briana--a kindred kind. I began to understand why I needed to be prepped for my meeting. Although this Caitlin Diggs and myself would never be carbon copies, we could share a lot of similarities. That brought me some comfort because if my double devoted her life to law enforcement as I had, I knew that fact might help break the ice. And even though that ice might be a gigantic Titanic-sinking glacier in nature, there had to be some commonality. The essence of that notion began to melt away at least some of my insecurities. Either that, or Owl essence packs one hell of a wallop.
Ten
I had gone to bed early, eight p.m. early, sleeping soundly in Briana’s guestroom. Surprisingly, I didn’t remember opening my eyes once despite the small ebbs and flows of trepidation that continued to course through my veins. A small nagging voice during my dream theater versed me not to trust the motherly wiles of Briana nor her fairytale portrayal of Judge Manners. Yet this voice must have spent the night in frustration, the heaviness of my eyelids winning out in the end. I had slept in a loaner robe, completely nude underneath it. My clothes had been washed and dried overnight. I found them hanging, panties and a bra, over the shower curtain in the bathroom. My outerwear however had been replaced with more loaner clothes, a black T-shirt, pink scripted writing emblazoned over the chest: Witches Like It Mystical. This hung over a chair in the spacious bath, along with a pair of white shorts which surprisingly fit me like a glove. Under the chair I found my security blanket, my black sneakers. At that instant, I thanked the heavens for allowing me to bring one of my most cherished possessions to this altered reality. I began to wonder what this other Caitlin liked. What did she cherish?
As I finished brushing my teeth--a new brush had been left out for me on the sink countertop--I heard Briana calling me.
“Good. You’re up,” she said through the door. “I’m fixing some breakfast.”
I began to plead in a mumbling sort of way, toothpaste still swishing in my mouth, that I didn’t need food. I needed to find Caitlin. I doubt she heard me over the gurgling, though.
A regal spread garnished the kitchen table. Several varieties of bread sat sliced upon a carving board--one smelled like banana. Hot coffee steamed from a carafe. Fruit, including strawberries, pineapple and kiwi, flowed generously from a dish, exquisitely painted with botanic design, red and yellow flowers. A glass of orange juice sat before me. Okay. Okay, I said to my grumbling stomach. We’ll have breakfast...
I smiled at Briana as she motioned me to dig in and I spent the next ten minutes in bliss. That all ended when Briana set down a card to the immediate left of my coffee mug, it read: Oleg’s Gym & Fitness Center.
I immediately deduced what Briana had in mind.
“I’m meeting Caitlin in a gym? I glanced at a clock hanging from a wall. four-fifteen a.m. “Do you mean she’s there now?” I said, grabbing another piece of banana bread.
“It’s her morning routine,” Briana said, now seated across from me, sipping herbal tea. “Looks like you two don’t share a passion for fitness.” A smirk flashed across her face.
I felt my notions of commonality crumble before me, just like the piece of bread I had begun to butter.
I wondered what universe would ever find me working out a gym, much less before dawn.
“Yes,” I said trying to restore some respectability. “I guess it’s a matter of preference. I don’t like working out in public. I do it at home.” I thought about my declaration, the only workout I did at home usually involved chasing Celeste. And for some reason that reminded me of my chaste existence, I hadn’t even rolled around in the hay since I moved to Salem--again, not counting my romp with incubus boy.
We finished breakfast. I offered to do dishes but Briana waved a hand at me and filed the plates into the convenience of a dishwasher--mystical, my ass.
“Thanks for the outfit,” I said once she finished.
“I’m sure Caitlin will have more appropriate clothes for you. Your belongings are in a duffel bag.” She pointed to a hot pink bag adorning the couch. Not exactly my choice of colors, kind of flashy for my conservative tastes, however I would not be looking a gift horse in the mouth anytime soon. Right now, I counted Briana and possibly Caitlin as my two allies in this world, the jury still out on “Judge” Manners.
She dropped me off at the gym, located no more than fifteen minutes from her residence. The hustle and bustle of DC traffic reminded me of my FBI days. I caught a flashing sign perched above a bank, offering time and temperature. Not even 5 a.m. And still warm--82 degrees. I sighed and entered, finding a handsome attendant at the desk, completely buffed out with a black crew cut. He took my guest card and laughed. “You must be Agent Diggs’s twin sister. The resemblance is unmistakable.”
I wondered. With my hair pulled back into a ponytail and my loaner clothes, I didn’t imagine anything other than my face would strike a chord of familiarity.
He pointed to a row of Stairmasters. Even with her back turned from me, I knew her. My other self, decked out in a plum colored sweat suit. Her hair banded back into a ponytail. Okay, maybe the resemblance was striking.
Yet, when she turned to face me that theory shattered. This Caitlin wore makeup, even while exercising. Her face positively radiated positive energy. Even at 5 a.m., no less. She smiled at me, pushed a button to put her torture device on standby and stepped off it.
We shook hands, both of us now smiling at the awkwardness of our circumstance.
She finally said. “We’ve got to do something about your wardrobe choices.”
I explained the loaner principle and how I had literally crossed into her world with only one set of clothes upon my back.
She took off her jacket and handed it to me.
I graciously accepted it, glad to cover up the witch tee.
Perusing her body, I noticed how firm her arm muscles were, the trimness of her waist. Both accentuated by a midriff green satin shirt. Tara would have loved her fashion choices. It made me wallow with despair. I missed my sister. I had self esteem issues. But, no; now was not a good time to throw a pity party. I had to focus. I needed Diggs’s help to find and capture Mollini.
She quickly segued into FBI mode, explaining how Briana’s expertise at magic might aid our demon hunt. Now, she resembled me.
“Do you mind if I finish my workout?” she asked.
“No.” I realized I said this too quickly, because finishing her workout meant I would be joining her. She set me up on an adjacent torture device, pushing beeping buttons, a compulsive, determined look taking up residence in the same sapphire blue eyes we shared. I recognized this determined look. Yet, I had never worn it with the intent to sweat voluntarily. “Intermediate, Okay?” I nodded. I really would have appreciated a beginner or novice level, perhaps a couch potato setting if there were such an option. A TV screen rested above the torture device, sitting invitingly above the handlebars.
I resisted the urge to turn it on. What kind of first impression it might evoke with Caitlin. Then I had an epiphany. I reasoned the news channel would be appropriate, even a tool of sorts. We both needed to learn if Mollini had begun to harm the people of this reality.
She helped me find an equivalent of CNN. Stories of child abductions, killer tropical storms, government fraud; the usual fare--but nothing about a maniacal demon graced the screen. I noticed how heavy my breathing had become. I tried to stifle the huffing a
nd puffing, feeling like the big bad wolf herself. I failed--miserably. Diggs smiled, knowingly. She too, like Briana, could see through my façade, apparently. I motioned with my hand that I needed to talk, more out of desperation to take the focus off my physically challenged body.
“I think I should call you Agent Diggs,” I said, “and you can call me Caitlin. It will be less confusing.”
She nodded. Then I decided to be needy, opting for some personal comfort before we worked out the logistics of capturing a soul-stealing fugitive. I needed to find out if my Geoffrey McAllister existed, or had ever existed, in this world.
She told me she never heard the name. My overtaxed heart sank. I guess that meant he could still exist here, though, possibly working a much safer occupation than FBI agent. I still held hope he did. I even hoped that the ever-increasing pain stabbing my lower back and sides like daggers would subside once I got off this infernal huff and puff machine. Maybe this Diggs’s positive approach to life had begun to rub off on me.
We finally finished. She excused herself to a shower. Before she left, she nodded in the buff attendant’s direction, “Don’t worry, I said you’re from out of town, he won’t bother you.” I headed for the juice bar, not quite understanding. Then I discovered the complimentary juice didn’t come without a price. Buff Man began to hustle gym memberships to all the other unsuspecting guest juice sippers. He even handed out a free towel, displaying the gym’s logo, a raging bull, as an enticement. I laughed to myself: wouldn’t work with me. Well, maybe if that bull might take form as the buff attendant and take me back to his pad, then I might reconsider. I nearly shuddered from my wanton daydream. Lust… it had become so prevalent of late. My mind drifted to Charles Grant and his piercing sea green eyes. I imagined rolling around on the floor of the plane with him. Mile high ambitions…
