by V. E. Lemp
“By plane?”
“No,” he said, straightening and striding away from her.
Karen watched until he turned down a small corridor off of the main hallway.
Just then, Mark walked toward her with a question in his eyes. “What are you staring at so intently?”
“One of Alice’s friends. Douglas, or so he says. Apparently Alice is quite determined I accompany you on this trip.”
“Really?” Mark frowned. “Not sure I like the sound of that.”
“I just heard our boarding call so it’s too late to change our plans.” Karen said, as they walked back to the gate. “Anyway, Alice has been helpful to our cause in the past.”
“We’ll see. But you’ll tell me immediately if you happen to run into any more of these beings, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Karen waited until they were seated in the plane before speaking again. “It’s rather disconcerting, you know,” she whispered as they fastened their seat belts, “to realize we’re always under surveillance by the Oneiroi, if not Ian Vance and his cohorts.”
“I know.” Mark’s expression was grave. “But we can’t let that haunt our lives. If we spend too much time worrying over such things they win by default.”
“Oh, I won’t let that happen.” Karen tapped the armrest. “No way are they going to win. Not as long as I have any means to fight them.”
Mark laid his hand over her restless fingers. “Well, you have me.”
Karen looked at him with a smile. “Now that’s a weapon they always underestimate.”
“Which is,” Mark replied, with an answering smile, “to our advantage.”
Dream Journal, June 7th:
I was in my studio, standing before a large, blank canvas balanced on a wooden easel. I held my pallet and a brush, but each time I stretched out my fingers to lay down a stroke of paint my brush fell short of the surface. No matter how I tried I couldn’t touch that canvas.
“What is this?” I tossed the brush to the ground.
“You are still undecided,” said a voice behind me.
I turned to face a slender, dark-haired woman. “Isabelle? What are you doing here?”
“Communicating with you,” answered the woman I knew to be one of the Oneiroi’s avatars. “We have spoken before.”
“But not in my dreams.” I laid down my pallet and stepped toward her. “I thought you were one of Vance’s supporters. Did he send you to infiltrate my subconscious?”
“No. Dr. Vance does not know I have chosen to speak to you. He would be displeased by such an action. He prefers our communications with humans to be, shall we say, more cryptic.”
“Disguised, you mean. Hidden behind symbolism. Devised to confuse the dreamer.”
“Just so.” Isabelle’s dark eyes regarded me with interest. “I heard you have learned to control your dreams. Can you alter this one?”
I thought for a moment. The studio melted away, replaced with an empty beach. The sky was overcast, the clouds masking the sun. The waves were calm, spilling onto the sand like water tipped out of a glass.
“This is near Dr. Vance’s beach house.” Isabelle looked up and over my shoulder. “Ah yes, there it is. You remember it well. But I do not think you ever saw it from this angle. Where did this image come from, Karen Foster?”
I didn’t correct her. I had no desire to give Isabelle my proper name. “I don’t know. Perhaps I’m drawing from someone else’s memories.”
“It is a very fine representation. You have learned much over the last year.”
“In many areas,” I replied. “But what did you mean before, about me being undecided? I know what I want and what I plan to do.”
Isabelle turned and walked along the edge of the water, allowing the surf to wash over her feet. “Perhaps. But you have not decided how you will handle Alex Wythe if he returns to you.”
I followed her, noticing her bare feet left no imprint on the wet sand. “I don’t see where that’s any concern of yours.”
“Oh,” she glanced over her shoulder, “it might make a difference, you see, in how our human visitor behaves when he returns to your world. He has not been the most dependable subject.”
“You mean he’s not obeyed all of Dr. Vance’s commands? Or given Exocorp exactly what it wants?” The air grew increasingly cool. I glanced at the sky as the clouds darkened.
“You are correct, Karen Foster. Alex Wythe has abused our hospitality.”
“From your perspective.” I brushed water drops from my face. “Must you make it rain?”
“From the perspective of those who offered him a home with us.” Isabelle stopped walking and turned to stare at the ocean. “He has aligned himself with those who threaten a great storm. It will strike your world as well as ours, if it is allowed to gather strength.”
I closed my eyes. When I opened them we were standing in a familiar white room. “It’s a storm of your making. We’re simply attempting to survive its winds.”
Isabelle smiled—an expression that did nothing to soften her face. “You are seeding the clouds, Karen Foster. You and your friends. It would be best,” she added, her dark eyes flashing, “if Alex Wythe did not join forces with you.”
“That’s up to Alex.”
“Not entirely. If you agreed to come to us I believe our Dr. Wythe could be persuaded to return as well.”
I shook my head. “I’ll never do that. You may report back to your masters, if you wish. I’ll never help you. And I won’t be going anywhere with Alex Wythe. I have another life now.”
“You have not yet encountered him again, in his human form.” Isabelle turned and strode toward one of the blank white walls. “It may be more difficult than you think to turn him away.” She stepped through the wall and disappeared.
I closed my eyes again. When I opened them, I was awake, sitting in an airplane as it taxied into a terminal.
THREE
After a short flight from Denver to Durango, the drive from the airport to Dulce took less time than collecting their luggage and arranging for their rental car. Mark claimed this was not unusual.
“It’s one of the laws of business travel,” he told Karen as they drove into town. “Now, do me a favor and call Myron, would you? You have his number?”
“Of course.” Karen pulled her cell phone from her purse. “What do you want me to tell him?”
“That we’ll come by and see him as soon as we’ve checked in to our motel.” Stopped at a red light, Mark pointed off in the distance. “There’s the mesa, by the way.”
“Doesn’t look ominous. It’s rather beautiful, really.”
“It is, and it’s a natural formation that’s stood there a lot longer than any rumors. Get directions from Myron when you talk with him. He’s staying with a friend in town somewhere.”
“Your intelligence reports didn’t tell you where?” Karen scrolled through her phone for the correct number.
Mark glanced over at her with a smile. “No. It isn’t an exact science, you know.”
“I’d have thought you’d have a GPS tracker on him by now.” Karen pressed the button to dial Myron’s number.
“Not yet. Although there are a few people …”
“Hush, I don’t want to know.” Karen said hello to Myron as he answered his phone.
Their motel was a simple one-story building with parking spots located directly in front of each unit. Karen glanced around the room, which was clean but furnished with particleboard furniture covered in obvious faux-wood laminate.
“I see the government spares no expense.” She dumped her luggage on the extra double bed.
“Well, it’s our tax dollars, so I don’t complain too much,” Mark said. “But I hope you observe I’m not living the high life when I’m on the road.”
“Obviously not.” Karen crossed to the sliding glass doors that led to a small paved patio. “The view isn’t bad, though. You can see the mesa from here.”
“Good opportunities
for sketching then?” Mark stepped up behind her. She felt the warmth of his body as he moved close.
“Yes, I’ll have to try to capture that scene. What’re you doing?”
“Just appreciating. You smell good.” Mark kissed her neck.
“Do I? After all that travel? You’re being disingenuous, my dear.” Karen leaned back against him. “I suspect ulterior motives.”
“Oh now, whatever would that be?” Mark took her lightly by the shoulders and turned her to face him.
“Aren’t you tired?” Karen put her arms around his neck.
“Not that tired.” Mark leaned down to kiss her as a phone jangled loudly. “Damn, is that mine or yours?”
“Mine, I think. Sounds like my ringtone,” Karen stepped out of Mark’s arms. She crossed the small room and pulled her phone from her purse. “It’s Thea,” she said as she sat on the edge of the spare bed.
“Tell her she has bad timing.” Mark picked up a small travel case and headed for the bathroom.
“Hello?” Karen answered the phone.
“I may as well grab a shower,” Mark called from the other room. “We’re supposed to meet Myron in an hour.”
“Am I interrupting something?” Thea asked. “I heard Mark’s voice. I hope this isn’t inconvenient …”
“What? No, your timing is fine …” Karen grinned as Mark yelled, “It is not,” from the bathroom. “What’s up? I didn’t think you’d call until later this evening. You knew we were traveling.”
Thea explained that Aaron had noticed a car following him home from work, and Bradley had been approached by a strange dark-haired woman who’d asked him if he needed a ride home from soccer practice. “Fortunately, we have him well trained. He knows better than to talk to strangers.”
“Thank God.” A wave of fury washed over Karen. “But you’d better not leave him at practice, even with the coaches and chaperones there.”
“Yeah, we’ve already decided that.” There was anger bubbling in Thea’s voice. “I guess one of us will have to stay with the kids, no matter what. Just seems so despicable, the way they go after those who can’t defend themselves. Such big men,” she added, with a derisive snort. “Using children to achieve their ends.”
“Well, no one said they had any standards or morals. Listen, call me immediately if anything else happens, will you? I still think Mark could arrange some protection …”
“No, no. It’s not as bad as all that.” Thea spoke of a few more inconsequential things before wishing Karen a good trip and hanging up.
Mark walked out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel, as Karen put away her phone. “What was that all about?”
Karen passed along Thea’s information. “Can you have someone watch them? I’d feel much better if you could arrange that.”
“Most definitely.” Mark sat next to Karen on the bed. “I can call in a favor or two.”
“As soon as possible?”
“This very minute.” He gave her a quick hug. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure someone’s watching over them. Now, you’d better have your shower so we can meet with Myron on schedule.” He pulled up a city map on his phone and compared it to the address Myron had provided. “It appears we’re within walking distance of his location. So I say we leave the car here.”
“Sounds reasonable.” Karen stood. “We can tell your bosses we’re saving the taxpayers a few more pennies.”
“Always a good idea. They like a thrifty operation. Now, let me see who I can find to watch over the Jones family. Without their knowledge, of course.” Mark winked.
“Heaven help you if Thea ever finds out,” Karen said from the bathroom.
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Mark called after her. “I’ll just say it was your idea.”
FOUR
Standing in the entrance hall of a small frame house, Myron Tarrow introduced Mark and Karen to his host, a middle-aged woman with black eyes and dark hair pulled back into a single plait. She gave her name as Mary Green and smiled broadly as she clasped Karen’s hands.
“Myron tells me you were married fairly recently. That means you two are still newlyweds, aren’t you?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Myron said. “What’s it been now, Mark?”
“About eight months,” Mark said. “Although we’ve actually known each other for much longer. Over eleven years, I guess.”
“But we didn’t see each other for about ten of those years.” Karen cast Mark a quick smile. “We reconnected more recently.”
“How romantic,” Mary said. “I’d like to hear that story sometime.”
Mark and Karen looked at each other. “It’s complicated,” Karen said.
“Well, come into the family room and make yourselves comfortable.” Mary led the way down the short hall.
“Ariel’s anxious to speak with you again,” Myron said. “She hasn’t seen you since the wedding, you know.”
“How is she?”
“Oh, she’s just fine, though she’s been under some strain lately. Picking up too many random messages, I’m afraid.” Myron frowned. Karen knew he worried about his teenage daughter’s ability to receive psychic information, which was often more a burden than a gift.
“Right in here.” Mary ushered them into a large room.
The family room was clean and tidy but sparely decorated. One landscape hung over the brown chenille sofa—a painting so old and heavily varnished Karen couldn’t make out any details of its forest scene. The rest of the wood-paneled walls were bare. A bright rag rug and a few comfortable chairs were scattered about the worn plank floor. There was a simple shelving unit on one wall that held a small television and a large quantity of books.
Ariel was seated on the sofa talking to another young woman. The two presented a startling contrast. Karen tapped her fingers against her hip—always a perfect image when she didn’t have a sketchpad. Ariel Tarrow, tiny and pale, had a face that was all angles and large gray eyes. Her snow-blond hair floated fine as milkweed floss about her bird-wing shoulders. The young woman seated next to Ariel was as curvaceous as a model in a Rembrandt painting. She had olive skin and a round face framed with a tumble of short chestnut curls. Both Ariel and the other young woman looked up as Mark and Karen entered the room. The green eyes of the stranger sized them up.
Ariel jumped to her feet. “Karen and Mark! I haven’t seen you in forever.” She crossed the room to give them both a hug. “And this is Elena,” she said, stepping back and gesturing toward the girl on the couch. “A new friend of mine.”
“Elena Charles.” The young woman’s voice was low and musical. She rose to her feet. She was very tall—the same height as Mark, who was not a short man.
“Elena,” Myron said, “is going to help me with a very special project.”
Mark gazed at Myron. “Really? And what might that be?”
“I’ll explain later, when our other guest arrives. And here’s Will,” Myron said, as a dark-haired teenage boy wandered in from the kitchen. He introduced Karen and Mark and explained, “Will is Mary’s son.”
“Could’ve guessed that,” Karen said. “You look very much alike.”
“Yeah, that’s what everyone says.” Will was quite slender but his broad shoulders gave a hint of the man he’d become once he grew into his bones. Karen gazed into his dark eyes and was surprised to see a reminder of two other men, Max McCormick and Lee Oshima, two of her fellow participants in the Morpheus Project. Will had a look she’d seen in Max and Lee’s eyes—shadowed and haunted, as if he’d experienced too much pain in his short life.
“Hey, Will, do you want to come with me to pick up some stuff at the grocery store?” asked Elena. “Your mom says she’s running out of everything.”
“Because I eat too much.” Will’s grin brightened his narrow face.
“Because you’re growing too fast,” his mother said. “Here’s the list. And if no one minds, I’m heading into the kitchen to start supper.”
“N
o, that’s perfectly all right,” Myron said. “Don’t let us get in the way.”
“And please don’t feel you have to feed us, Mary,” Mark said. “Karen and I’ll just grab something later. We don’t want to impose on you.”
“It’s no problem.” Mary examined them. “But I understand if you’d rather not stay with us this evening. I’m sure you’re tired from your trip. I’ll invite you back for a proper meal another time.”
Mark gave her a warm smile. “Thank you. We’ll look forward to that.”
Mary smiled in return and walked into the kitchen.
“Come and sit with me, Karen.” Ariel crossed back to the sofa as Elena and Will left the room. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Karen cast a swift glance at Mark. “All right.”
“Myron and I need to talk for a few minutes so we’ll leave you girls alone. Is there somewhere else we can go?”
“Just out back.” Myron pointed at a door at the other end of the room. “There’s a small patio.”
Ariel waited until the men left the room before speaking. “Please sit.” Her gray eyes were very clear and bright, and intently focused on Karen’s face.
“What is it?” She clasped Ariel’s hands. “Is there some problem that concerns me?”
“No, not a problem,” the girl said hesitantly. “It’s just, I keep picking up these messages I think are actually for you. Or about you, anyway.”
Karen eyed Ariel. “You’re getting messages for me? I can’t imagine why, after … well, after I found out the truth about Alex. I confronted him, or at least his avatar. It was a pretty intense discussion, and I assumed … I thought we settled our issues.”
“The messages are from Dr. Wythe?”
“I think you can just call him Alex. But yes, I suspect so.”
“You two were involved a while back, weren’t you?”
“Yes, we were involved. Actually”—Karen laid Ariel’s hands down on the sofa—“Alex and I lived together for a time.”
