by Kris Tualla
Hollis called out, “What did you find, Tom?”
“A bunch of coins and paper money from Germany. Must be Hitler’s because they’re called Reichmarks and have swastikas.” He set the box on a stack of other black-topped plastic bins.
“Are you bringing in the Egyptian find?” Tony asked. His voice sounded pinched.
Hollis shook her head. “No, we are leaving it alone for the Embassy people to take care of.”
Tony cleared his throat. “Do you think I, uh, would it be possible for me to, uh…”
Hollis looked pointedly at Sveyn before ending the other collector’s misery. “You want to see it?”
Tony’s cheeks flushed. “I would love to. Yes.”
“All right.” Hollis faced Tony squarely. “But you can’t touch anything. We don’t want to stir up any latent curses.”
“Task him with attending to the Egyptians when they come,” Sveyn suggested. “Then you will be safe from the curses.”
Hollis gave a quick nod. “In fact, I would be okay with you assisting the Embassy representatives when they come to claim it all.”
Tony looked like he might actually forgive her for bastardizing the museum’s mission statement with Ezra’s hoard. “Sure. I’d be glad to.”
Tuesday
September 29
Hollis checked the time so often she began to think someone was playing a trick on her and setting the clocks back. With her nerves on edge, six seemed so unbearably far away, and the time-space continuum was definitely slowing down.
Where’s a DeLorean when you need one?
Stevie carried a bottle of wine into Hollis’s office as soon as their phones registered five o’clock. “I love a threaded closure on a fine wine, don’t you?”
Hollis laughed. “Don’t you mean a screw top?”
Stevie appeared suitably outraged. “This isn’t a bottle of Ripple! It’s from Mondavi.”
Then she pulled two acrylic wine glasses from a soft-sided purse that dwarfed her petite frame. “You need to relax while we run through a few questions before your chat with Doctor Say-gee-he’s cute.”
“Ah. That’s clever.” Hollis held out one of the glasses.
Stevie twisted off the top of the dark red merlot and poured. “This guy could be the real deal and we can’t let you make any critical mistakes.”
“We?”
Stevie filled her own glass, then held it out toward Hollis’s. “We are in this together.”
Hollis clunked her goblet against Stevie’s, the sound of acrylic against acrylic far less satisfying than the sweet ping of a crystal kiss. “Thank you, Stevie. I do appreciate the support.”
Stevie sipped her wine. “Hmm. Not bad.”
Hollis agreed. “So now what?”
“Now we try some sample questions and work out some answers.” Stevie pulled a small notepad from the huge purse. She flipped the cover open, considered the first page, and turned to Hollis. “Plastic surgery—deal breaker?”
*****
Hollis shooed Stevie—and Sveyn—from her office at five minutes to six. Then she threw the deadbolt.
While the lock would keep Stevie out, such an action would have no effect on Sveyn. However, the Viking had given her his word that he would remain on the other side of the office door for as long as the barrier was closed.
“Will you be able to hear me?” Hollis pressed.
“Yes,” he admitted.
Hollis rolled her eyes, realizing that she had no control over the apparition. “Just go. Get out of my sight.”
Sveyn gave her a courtly bow and backed through the heavy office door.
Show off.
Hollis settled herself in her desk chair, checked her makeup and hair in the reflection of the sleeping computer screen, and then logged in to MatchPoint, her heart pounding.
She watched the time on her computer, comparing it to her phone which was one minute slower. She was in the midst of wondering why there was a discrepancy when a ping echoed so loudly through the room and she nearly shot to the ceiling in a startled blast.
When her heartbeat slowed enough for her to think, she read the notification on her screen: Everett Sage has signed on to VideoPoint and invited you to join him.
Hollis hesitated long enough to draw a deep breath and then clicked, I accept.
The static screen blinked to live video. Hollis was facing a man who—amazingly—matched his profile photo: short gray hair, darker eyebrows, warm brown eyes, and an engaging smile.
“Hello, Hollis.”
She gave the camera a shy smile, glad he couldn’t see her hands shaking. “Hello, Everett. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m glad you agreed to chat with me tonight.
“Thank you for suggesting it.” Hollis licked her lips which were inexplicably dry. “What should we talk about?
Everett seemed to have this video thing down; when he was speaking, he was looking into the camera, not at the screen. “I really want to get to know you. Tell me about your job.”
Hollis made a face—which she could see because she kept forgetting to look at the camera—and then lifted her eyes away from the screen. She might as well hit him with the morbid truth right off the bat. If he was going to bolt, it’s better that he ran now, not later.
“I am a contracted and temporary collections manager at the Arizona History and Cultural Center in Tempe, Arizona.” Don’t give him time to think too hard about that. “And you?”
Everett looked to his right. “Will you excuse me a minute?” He stood and walked away.
Hollis drummed her fingers on the desktop, waiting. This was not good.
A voice in the distance called out, “Hold on.”
Hollis folded her arms and stared at the screen, willing his return. She hated to think that this new possibility might wilt before it bloomed.
Everett dropped back onto his seat. “I’m back. Sorry. Puppy-sitting for a friend and Jasper needed to go out. Now.”
That was a relief. And adorable. Hollis smiled. “Are you a dog person?”
Everett’s expression grew tentative. “Totally. Hope that’s not a deal breaker. You?”
“Yep, dogs all day. The only cats I can stand are the feral ones I imagined releasing in my ex’s house.” With a horrified gasp Hollis stared at the screen, eyes wide and mouth open.
No! No, no, no!
What was I thinking?
What is he thinking?
Everett tossed his head back and loosed a chest-deep laugh. “Now that is hilarious!”
Chapter Twenty-One
The video chat lasted almost an hour. Stevie, however, was still at her post in the hallway when Hollis opened her office door once again.
“Finally!” Stevie climbed to her feet and stuffed her phone in her pocket. “I’ve been waiting out here, all alone, playing Candy Birds on my phone, and wondering how things were going.”
Hollis glanced at Sveyn.
“Or not alone,” he said, peering intently at her. “How did the doctor comport himself?”
Hollis turned around to secure her door, the key sliding into the lock with a metallic zzzip. “He was charming. Intelligent. Funny. Easy to talk to.” She twisted the key, removed it, and turned back to face Stevie. “And puppy-sitting for a friend.”
Her co-worker flashed a delighted smile. “That’s adorable!”
“Isn’t it?” Hollis grinned as she started the winding trek through the museum’s offices toward the back door, Stevie and Sveyn in tow. “He’s coming to Phoenix at the end of next week.”
“How long will he be in town?”
“He said he wasn’t sure. But at least a week or two.” Hollis held her key card under the alarm panel’s scanner.
“What does he do?” Stevie asked.
Hollis paused, her hand resting on the back door’s handle. “Um… he didn’t actually say. We talked mostly about me.”
“Well there’s a nice twist, I have to say.”
Hol
lis smiled. “Yes. It was.”
She opened the door while the alarm beeped behind her and the two women walked outside into a blazing sunset. Sveyn was already halfway to her car before the steel door clunked closed behind them and the alarm emitted a confirming whoop.
When the pair reached Hollis’s car, Stevie grabbed her hand. “This could be the one, Hollis. I have a very good feeling about him.”
“Thanks.” Hollis gave Stevie a quick hug so her friend wouldn’t notice the vastly polarized emotions which her sweet and optimistic words had prompted. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Hollis was quiet during the drive home, so Sveyn was quiet as well. She knew he wanted to hear more about Everett, but she didn’t want to tell him everything. Partly to protect his feelings, and partly to protect her own.
Sveyn cared about her; she knew that. And he was physically attracted to her, that was clear as well. Even more unsettling was the discovery that his bond with her had grown strong enough that his thoughts could invade hers.
“Only when you are asleep,” he told her much later. “I have tried when you were awake but nothing happened.”
Hollis blushed at the time. “You imagined sex with me while I was awake? When?”
“When you were here, at work.” His expression grew puckish. “Or at your home, when you were taking a shower.”
Hollis would have punched him if she could. “Stop it!”
Grinning, he stepped back as if to avoid the blow. “I only wished to understand what happened, Hollis.”
“Hmm.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “So why does it ‘work’ when I’m sleeping?”
“I have a thought about that.” He stroked his chin. “When we sleep, we travel outside of ourselves, do we not? To impossible places and improbable times?”
“I suppose.” She frowned. “But dreams are prompted by random bits of experience and emotions. We don’t actually leave our bodies.”
“Do we not?” Sveyn shook his head. “I have learned about things called dimensions. What I am experiencing now can only be described as being in a dimension that is different from yours.”
That made scientific sense. “Yes, I agree.”
“What if, during your dream, you visited my dimension? That was how we connected?” Sveyn looked absurdly hopeful.
“A literal dream lover?” The thought was as terrifying as it was intriguing. Song lyrics skittered through her head.
Dream lover come rescue me…
Dream lover, where are you? With a love oh so true…
These dreams go on when I close my eyes…
“Great. So every night I’m going to live another life?” she grumbled.
Sveyn looked confused. “What?”
“Never mind. It’s from a song.”
“There are songs about these dream lovers?” Now Sveyn looked gobsmacked. “This is something that has happened to others?”
Hollis almost dismissed the Viking’s outrageous suggestion, but stopped, floored by the concept. Her training demanded that she must not dismiss the idea without doing at least some very basic research first.
“I can’t answer that, Sveyn,” she admitted. “But I guess anything’s possible.”
Hollis pulled into the parking space assigned to her condo. Sveyn slipped out through the passenger door and stood in front of the car, waiting.
He followed her into the condo, and didn’t speak until she closed the door. “Why are you so quiet, Hollis?”
She set her battered briefcase on the dining table. Honesty was probably the best approach now, as usual. “Because I’m confused, I guess.”
“Confused about what?”
Hollis opened the fridge and pulled out a half-finished bottle of sauvignon blanc. She poured half of what was left into a glass and added a couple ice cubes before she answered.
“Confused about what I want. Confused about what I feel. Confused about what I should do. Confused about what my future will look like.” She sipped the wine, surprised both by her gush of words, and the emotions that had pushed them out of her mouth.
Sveyn stepped closer to her. “I understand,”
She looked up at him, surprised. “You do?”
The Viking’s clear blue gaze met and held hers. “Hollis, I have been encountering different people for nearly a thousand years. I know how confusing and upsetting my presence can be.”
“And none of them were women, so I’m an extra special snowflake.” Hollis kicked off her shoes and carried her wine into her bedroom.
Sveyn followed. She didn’t stop him.
What’s the point?
“You liked the doctor, did you not?”
Hollis set her glass on the nightstand and slumped onto the edge of the bed. “Yes. I did.”
She flopped onto her back. “Oh, Sveyn. What am I going to do?”
He laid on the bed beside her, propped on one elbow and facing her. “I wish I could advise you. I truly do.”
“I care about you.”
“I know.”
“But this—” Hollis stretched out her arm, pushing her hand through Sveyn’s chest. The now-familiar tingle was still there, and stronger in fact, but there was absolutely nothing solid about the apparition. “This relationship has no happy ending ahead. It’s just not possible.”
Sveyn looked miserable. “I am sorry, Hollis. I fervently wish I could be different for you.”
That comment reminded Hollis of something she noticed earlier but forgot to ask Sveyn about. She pulled her hand back and turned on her side to face him. “Remember yesterday when Tony walked through you?”
He blinked at the abrupt change of subject, but answered her anyway. “Yes.”
“You said you felt it.”
“Yes, I did say that.”
“Is that normal?”
“Well. I…” Sveyn’s voice faltered. “I do not know. I might have felt something similar before, but this time it was a very clear sensation.”
Hollis propped herself on her elbow. “What made it different, do you think?”
Sveyn scowled. “I have no idea. Perhaps it happened because he was so angry.”
“Strong emotion? Could that be what you felt?” Hollis was fascinated by that possibility. “Does it have to be a negative emotion? Could it be a positive one?”
“I—”
She hopped off the bed. “Come on—stand up.”
“What emotion do you have now?” he asked as he did what she demanded.
“Hope.” Hollis walked forward. As she passed through Sveyn, she felt the expected electric-like current zing over her skin. She whirled to face him. “Did you feel that?”
Sveyn turned around slowly. His somber expression gave her an answer, but not the one she had so bravely anticipated.
“I felt that same vibration as always with you. But it was not like what I felt with Tony.”
Hollis blinked back unexpected tears of disappointment. “Can you describe what the difference is?”
Sveyn shrugged. “With you, it is always light. With Tony, it was heavy.”
“I don’t understand what that means.” Her voice cracked with frustration. “What does that mean, always light? Or heavy?”
“The… presence. I cannot think of another way to describe it.” His brow twisted. “Do you believe that Tony felt it?”
Hollis sucked a breath. “He didn’t appear to. But maybe because he was so worked up, he just didn’t notice.”
“Do you want to ask him?”
Do I?
What would she gain if he said yes?
A clue.
Hollis walked around Sveyn to reclaim her wine, a plan knitting itself together in her mind. “Tony wants to go to the hoard with me and see the Egyptian artifacts.”
Sveyn flashed a crooked smile. “So now his anger and jealousy have turned to curiosity?”
“Yes. Wait—what?” Hollis peered up at him. “Jealousy?”
“You are getting all the attention, a
re you not?”
She shook her head. “Not me. The hoard.”
“Which is both under your control, and receiving the majority of people’s interest.” Sveyn leaned down to her eye level. “You are the star. He was sent far afield. To Tucson.”
Hollis took a cold gulp of the sauvignon blanc, then pointed the glass at Sveyn. “Even if you’re right, I’m still going to take him to Ezra’s house.
Sveyn straightened. “Why?”
“Because when we go, I can ask him about ghosts and curses and if he has ever experienced anything related—like passing through a chill, or something.”
“Ah. I see. This might have happened to him because he works with items that are cursed.”
“If the curses are real.” Hollis wrinkled her nose. “And you know I’m skeptical about that possibility.”
Sveyn’s brow furrowed. “You should not be. They are real.”
Hollis walked toward her bedroom door. “Mostly I’ll be asking because he’s Hispanic, and the Hispanic tradition is so rich in spiritualism.”
Hollis turned around, laid her hand over her heart, and gave Sveyn her most sincere expression. “I’m only trying to understand the culture, of course. And looking for anecdotal evidence.”
Sveyn’s blue eyes darkened. “What sort of evidence is that?”
“Stories. About individual experiences. Not truly scientific, of course, but they can prompt legitimate research.” Hollis finished her wine. “Come on. Let’s watch something fun on television while I heat up last night’s leftovers for supper.”
Sveyn wagged his head and flashed a crooked grin. “Is it fun watching a bunch of women try to win one man’s heart?”
Hollis continued her path to the kitchen, talking over her shoulder. “Or we could watch the talent competition. Winner gets a million dollar deal in Vegas, baby.”
Sveyn’s deep chuckle surged from behind her and wrapped around her like a blanket of contentment.
I love you, Viking.
Damn it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Thursday
October 1
“Holy mother of God.” Tony stared at the open casket. He blew a low whistle. “This is the real deal.”
