“Oh. You’re right about that. You check every day still?”
She nodded, a small smile on her lips. “At least, we still have hope, yes?”
“Yes.” I sat in the chair at the far end of the sofa. “Are you making any progress on what our next move is?”
“Not really. I have located a few dead ends and not much else.” She paused and picked up a notebook from the coffee table. “But, I have a list of five new contacts to try and two libraries that might have documents that could help. After that, I don’t know.”
“Maybe something else will turn up. On the positive side, I had an encounter today that might suggest my power is getting stronger or I’m getting better at it.” I went on to tell her about blasting the vines and the reaction along the barrier. I didn’t say anything about Janna. That was something I didn’t want to share.
“That is good news,” she said, sitting up straighter. “And that is without Nygard augmenting your power.”
I leaned onto my elbows, pushing forward. “I was thinking. Maybe we did close the portal in India, but it’s not enough to block the one on the transitional level. There has to be a portal behind that barrier. If we could get through the gate and inside their perimeter, we might be able to find the portal there and close it.”
She looked a little puzzled. “By we, you mean who?”
“My team–the one I’m assembling—and me.”
“How would you do it?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s only a thought. I don’t know yet what skills my team might have. First, I have to get them all gathered.”
“Right,” she said, dragging it out. “Start by contacting the one in New Zealand and set up a test to see if you can connect in either her location or yours. Then you can begin to see if you have the skill sets to fight a small army of dark spirits.”
“Yeah. I’m ahead of myself on that, I guess.” That felt like a real downer when I thought I might have an idea. But, I couldn’t waste any more time trying to get this going. Janna was in the mix now.
Chapter 13
MOVING DAY. I STRUGGLED out of my bed one last time, stripped the sheets off, and threw them into a box. My other set covered my bed at Gavin’s already so these could wait for the next wash. I glanced around my room feeling a twinge of sadness to be leaving it.
The bookcases were empty and ready to take downstairs to join the others in Ferris’s van. I expected him any time now to get the rest of the furniture out. He and a friend had hauled the downstairs sofa, chairs, and tables to his garage last night. So, there wasn’t too much to be done now. Mostly boxes with books and odds and ends in them and the music room. The piano would be the last thing out of there.
I sipped my morning coffee and checked my computer before I shut it down and packed it up to move. I noticed a new email from Father Garrity in England and clicked it open. His greeting wasn’t as stiff as his prior ones now that we’d talked on a face chat. He said that he’d heard from Rome.
He wrote: Your information was of great interest there and caused a bit of a stir from what little I was told. As a result, the Vatican has two representatives who would like to speak with you and Dr. Haines as soon as possible. Would you be able to set something up within the next few days?
Whoa...the next few days, so by this weekend? Not with Gavin, but maybe they would accept Orielle in his stead. With careful phrasing, I replied: Thank you for the update and the invitation to speak with the people from Rome. Unfortunately, Dr. Haines was injured in an accident on a dig and cannot be available. However, his colleague, who is equally well informed, Dr. Orielle Choux, could fill in. I believe we can set something up for Saturday afternoon at four your time. Will that work? Please fill free to share my email address with the representatives, as we will need to set up a face chat. Just so you know, I am in the process of moving, so will be offline until this evening.
I clicked the send button and hoped that would be enough to get this rolling. Curiosity made me eager to talk to the Vatican agents. This felt like something out of a Dan Brown novel. Maybe the Vatican had agents the same as the United States had the FBI. I snatched up my phone and sent a text to Orielle advising her of the request, and my response so she could plan the time on Saturday.
Shutting down the computer, I packed it up and took it to my Jeep. As I stepped back to close the door, I watched Ferris’s van roll down the driveway. His friend Hulk waved as they pulled up. His name was really Greg, but everyone called him Hulk because he was built like a tank, and he worked out regularly.
Ferris slid out of the seat and ambled over to me, pulling me into a hug, then bestowing a sweet good-morning kiss on my lips. “We’re going to take the bookcases and all these boxes this morning, babe. Do you have everything in the music room packed up?”
“Mostly. I have music books, sheets, and all that in boxes. The soundboards, recorders, and other electronics just need to be unplugged, closed up, and loaded. I have a couple of music stands to break down. Other than that, it’s the piano.” I squeezed his waist and left an arm around him as we sashayed into the house.
After everything was out of the house, I would still need to clean up dust and anything that settled behind it. So, the vacuum would go to Gavin’s house with Nygard after I had my interview.
Ferris looked around at the packed boxes, even the three from the kitchen, and asked about the ones upstairs. “Books, towels, bathroom, and bedroom stuff,” I answered. ‘The bed stays, but the end table goes to Gavin’s.” I had locked my gun in the drawer of that.
He nodded. “I think we can do it in two runs today. Most of the boxes and the furniture in this one, then the piano and the stuff from there in the second run.”
“Great. I can take small stuff and the end table over in the Beast,” as I called my Jeep. “I’ll pack up Nygard’s bowls and his litter box when I take him over.”
Ferris shot a concerned look at me. “You sure you want to do this? It’s not too late to change your mind and move in with me. Nygard would probably adapt easier.”
My smile felt half-hearted, and probably looked it as well, as I crossed my arms over my chest and met his eyes. “Yeah, I know. But this is the right move for me now. Until things are more settled, I feel it’s more beneficial to share the place with Orielle. Besides, you’ll see a lot of me anyway with my piano over at your place.”
He grinned. “That was the idea.”
As he and Hulk started loading, I finished breaking down and packing up the stuff in the music room. The guitar and keyboard would go to Gavin’s with me, but the rest would get loaded into the van. I put the two I was taking into their respective cases and packed them in the Jeep.
Nygard sat in the corner and stared at me, his bright blue eyes filled with concern that everything was moving. He hadn’t gone through a house move before, so it probably seemed confusing to him. I sat on the floor next to him and scratched his ears, talking to him to reassure him that it would all be okay. I’d be taking him with me. He snuggled up next to me and butted his head against my arm.
“OUR PRODUCT IS REALLY a first in the field of healthy foods to use alternate flour products and low-calorie vegetables to produce a snack product that is delicious and won't load in useless carbs,” Ms. Chou explained after a brief introduction that told me her position of Marketing Director in the company. “What we're looking for here is a cute jingle with a cheerful tune that can become a brain worm. Like the Doublemint jingle.”
Yep, you and everyone else, ma'am. Essentially, any good jingle met that criteria. I could do a perky tune, and my brain was already trying to hum melodies although they were now influenced by the mention of the gum jingle.
“I really liked the two jingles your agent sent. Have you done any others?”
“I wrote a few more when I was at UNR, but those were the only two that I sold and were produced. Most of my compositions since have been songs. I was in a band for several years, and we liked to do our own materi
al.”
“I see. Why did you decide to apply to write our jingle?” She made a note on her pad as she spoke.
“In plain terms, I need the money. I'm currently without a full-time job, my band is on hiatus, so I need to have some money coming in. My agent thought I'd be a good match with this one.”
“Uh huh. Did you sing the jingles that were produced?”
“I did. I was a musical theater major and have done several musicals locally.” Was that good information or bad? I admitted I found the interview a little nerve-wracking. I hadn't done one in years.
“Income is always a good motivator,” she replied, making another note. “This job is really a onetime shot, but it will pay pretty well if we select your jingle. We will pay you a flat fee of $100 to just work on it. If a jingle of yours is selected, then we'll pay you $1000 upfront and royalties every time it is used. Does that sound good to you?”
“That sounds okay,” I said. “Are there others writing also?”
“I have two other candidates to interview. I may make the same offer to one or both. A little competition never hurts, I always say.” She flashed a grin at me.
“Right. What can you tell me about the product?”
Behind her desk, Chou's shoulder dipped down as she reached toward the floor to pull up a puffed-out package of something called Caulmond Chips in a somewhat bland-looking design. That was the first thing they needed to change. It looked like a generic brand, nothing enticing on it. She must have read my mind.
“This is the prototype packaging for our terrific tasting cauliflower, cheese, and almond flour chips. They are as sturdy as a regular potato chip and can be as obsessive. Our design department is still working on a final, enticing package concept. The chips are really awesome. Here, take this package as inspiration.”
I rose and reached across the desk to take the bag, figured it weighed about eight ounces, so it was a decent-sized sample. The concept sounded good, and I looked forward to tasting them. “They sound too good to be true. If they really deliver on the flavor, you could have a huge product here.” I flashed an enthusiastic smile as I sat back down, setting the package in my lap.
“We're looking to have some initial jingles within a week. If we like one or two of yours, we'll discuss any changes we might want, then look for a final product within the following week. Will that work for you?”
I nodded and asked, “How many jingles would you like to receive?” I knew that they could ask for multiple suggestions and sometimes they liked the lyrics from one and the tune from another. But I didn't want to create a dozen of the things for one product. Usually, I had three or four good ideas, and the rest would be just trash.
“We'd like to see at least three although you can submit up to six.”
“That works for me. Do you want me to bring the jingles to you on a zip drive or should I email them?” I hoped she would opt for the latter.
“While email is convenient, I wouldn't want to risk someone stealing our potential jingle if it was intercepted or your mail hacked, so I would prefer the zip drive.”
“Of course. No problem. I can do that.” That concluded the interview as she stood and reached over her desk to shake my hand saying that she expected to see some great jingles by the next Friday.
I took my prize package of Caulmond Chips to the Jeep and set them on the seat. Caulmond... That would take some getting used to, thinking in terms of the jingle and the buyer. How could I make that so snappy it would be on the tip of someone's tongue when they're shopping?
Sun Belt Food’s production plant sat near the river in the Industrial area of Sparks. In fact, it was only a couple of blocks from the park where we'd played for Roger Mitchell's engagement party. Oddly, I felt an urge to take another gander at the place.
One of the smaller parks in the city, it offered a decent-sized concrete slab with a pair of picnic tables. The platform stage that had been set up for the party was gone now. The park seemed strangely empty with only a couple of kids playing in it.
I got out and walked around the area, not sure what I thought I might sense in the process. I paused about where the stage had been and gazed out toward the street and the parking. Like a replay of the afternoon, the images reeled slowly through my mind.
Roger arriving with his fiancée, walking swiftly toward the stage, and leaving the woman to trail along at her own pace. What a jerk, I'd thought at the time. The shock of seeing how much Sonya resembled me still left me uneasy. She was the culmination of Roger's obsession with me; his willing play doll until she actually saw me. Then I think it hit her that she substituted for the real thing.
My mind flashed to the moment when Roger had kissed me onstage. In that odd way the brain has of recalling things you didn't think you saw, I conjured the background of the scene with Sonya standing close to the foot of the stage and watching her intended plant a wet one on another woman. Shock transformed her face into a not-so-pleasant mask, and she jerked her head to say something to a man next to her.
His face shifted to one of fury as his thick eyebrows lowered and a scowl erupted. He towered over her, easily six-feet tall, and broad-shouldered with muscular arms. His tight jeans showed off bulging, firm thighs while a western-style shirt that opened most of the way to his waist paired with his western boots and hat. He slammed his right fist into the palm of his left hand as if he was punching someone. As his mouth twisted into a sneer, the upper lip lifted unevenly on the right to reveal a gold tooth just to the side of his front tooth.
The sense of familiarity rippled through me like a wave of discovery. Where had I seen that sneer before? Why hadn’t I recalled seeing this until now? Had I been so infuriated by Roger’s presumption that I hadn’t consciously registered it?
I thought about that all the way back to my place to get my final load of the day.
Once I got home, it went out of my mind while I focused on loading the last couple of boxes, emptying the litter box and putting it in a plastic bag, then herding Nygard into his carrier for safe transport. Not liking the disruption in his world, he darted upstairs to look for a safe hiding place and skidded under the bed in the otherwise empty room.
On my knees, I crawled halfway under the bed trying to coax Nygard out. His eyes darted wildly from my face to the end of the bed, then back to my face as he contemplated his next escape route. I retreated and sat with my back to the bed to wait. Sooner or later, he would come out. Trying to force him would just send him scurrying another way. I started to hum a simple little tune with a soothing melody. It usually worked on dogs, but I was less sure about this cat. Belatedly, I wished I had kept some cat treats handy.
After ten minutes or so, his tan and beige face peeked out from under the bed frame, and a brown ear flicked forward. I held my nearest hand out flat and waited until he wiggled forward and raised his head under it, arching his back up as his rear rose in the air. Petting him, I urged him into my lap then trapped him in my arms, hugging him to my chest as I managed to get to my feet with just my legs doing the work. Back downstairs, I put him into the carrier without too much more drama except for a mild resistance as he shoved his back legs against the open frame.
Setting the carrier in the front seat, I locked the house then pointed the car to our new living space. I would come back the next morning to do the final clean-up on the house. For now, I just wanted to get settled in at Gavin’s place.
It felt weird being in the house as I thought of it with regard to its owner being in a hospital in the Bay Area. I released Nygard in our new bedroom and let him explore while I set up his litter box in the bathroom across the hall.
His nose twitched at the new scents. He flattened his body to get under the bed, checking it out. When he came out, I led him across the hall to the litter box, so he knew where it was. He hopped in, sniffed the fresh litter, and promptly soiled it to the best of his ability.
From there, I went to the living room and on to the kitchen to show him where h
is water and food dishes were located. After a couple of bites of the crunchies, he went to the sliding glass doors to peer out at the backyard.
Orielle hadn’t been at home when we arrived, and I didn’t want to presume she’d put wards on the house, so that was my next order of business. I went about casting the usual ones that Gavin had taught me, making sure all the doors and windows were covered. That done, I grabbed a cold soda from the ‘fridge and went back to my computer.
I sent a note to Elly telling her I wanted to set up a test for Sunday at noon, which would be four on Monday afternoon for her if that was agreeable. Following Orielle’s suggestion, I proposed that I try to follow the energy from her glove to her transitional spot. For one thing, hers might be safer than my cemetery. If the plan worked, then we’d try to reach mine.
I had a response in short order, asking if we could make it an hour later; I agreed without hesitation. With that arranged, I could move on with that plan. I sent a message to my group that I was working on trying to link us and asked how many might be up to trying astral travel with me.
I heard Nygard’s deep growl and meow combination from the kitchen and hurried to see what the problem might be. In my mind, I feared I would look out and see a yiaiwa hovering on the patio. When I got there, I discovered a plump raccoon sitting on its haunches on the other side of the glass. Taking one look at me, the animal bolted as fast as a chubby critter could.
“It’s just a raccoon,” I told Nygard, who peered up at me and blinked. Then his hackles rose and his hair transformed into a giant puffball as he let out a low, sinister-sounding growl. I glanced back at the glass doors and saw a midnight black, human-looking figure on the other side staring into the house.
I shrieked as its maw opened and it appeared to be laughing at me. It waved an appendage around, and like a whip, it hit the glass. While I jumped back from the door expecting it to break against that onslaught, Nygard flew from the floor to the counter in a giant spring. He crouched down and continued to produce that unearthly growl as I backpedaled to the other side of him, pressed my hand against his back, and prepared to cast a light bolt at the creature. The glass rattled in the frame, but the wards held and the yiaiwa couldn’t get through.
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