Broken Dragon (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 3)

by D. W. Moneypenny

  When Mara looked at Stella’s face, her eyes were open, but vacant, looking into some unseen distance. After several minutes her eyelids fluttered, and her eyes focused. The light between her hands diminished, and her flesh resumed a solid state. Stella removed her right hand and in the palm of her left sat an irregularly shaped stone, throbbing orange with dissipating heat.

  Curling her fingers over the stone, Stella extended her arm to Mara and said, “Here, take this.”

  Mara did not reach for it. “What is it going to do?”

  “Simply hold the stone in your hand, and your consciousness will absorb the memory. It might be a little strange at first, because you will remember being in my kitchen and experiencing what happened, even though you weren’t there. The disorientation will only be momentary.” She extended her hand closer to Mara’s and said, “Go ahead. Take it.”

  Mara opened her hand, and the stone rolled into her palm. As expected, it felt warm and a little tacky, as if it were a clump of lava still hardening.

  “What do I do?” Mara asked.

  “Just close your eyes and let the memory play back in your mind, just like you would recall any experience you’ve had in the past.”

  Mara shut her eyes and tried to relax. As the muscles in her neck unwound, she lowered her head. As the afterimages of the living room where they sat faded from her retinas, she tried to clear her mind and think about what happened two days ago. Suddenly she was hanging onto the flanks of the dragon, riding the crest of its wings and staring out at the lit cityscape of downtown Portland. Tuesday was the day of the dragon’s rampage through town. In a flash she found herself falling, plummeting toward the McLaughlin Boulevard. She looked up and saw the helicopter bobbing below the clouds and the dragon diving toward it. Then it was all gone.

  She stood in a kitchen she had never seen before, sitting at the bar, watching a strange man hunched over a cutting board, chopping. Though she was unfamiliar with the room, somehow she knew this was Stella’s kitchen and the man was Jamie, her husband. Behind him, a tiny blue filament of electricity contorted in the air, growing and slicing toward the floor and the ceiling at the same time. She kept expecting it to arc or ground itself somehow, but it simply grew until it was just inches from the terra-cotta tile on the floor. The hair on her arms rose, pulled toward the lightning. The bolt of light split open, widening in spasms, revealing an inky blackness inside.

  Air swirled around the room, drawing Jamie’s attention and prompting him to turn around. Falling backward, he flattened himself against the counter, trying to put space between himself and the strange light. He yelled something to Mara, but she couldn’t make it out. The howl of the wind, and the crackle and arcing of the blue streaks at the edge of the opening drowned him out.

  As Mara peered into the blackness that now looked like a cave opening, the room exploded with blue light. The static bubble she had always associated with the Chronicle filled the room, startling Jamie so badly he jumped and slipped, sliding down the front of the counter, landing in front of a stainless steel dishwasher. Mara could no longer see him behind the black hole, and she frantically worried about him. She had to remind herself that Jamie was not her husband, that this memory was not actually hers.

  Something moved in the black hole.

  A hand appeared, followed by a black-clad arm. A foot stepped over the edge of the opening and planted itself on the kitchen floor. The leg flexed and pulled forward its owner’s torso into the blue haze of the surrounding sphere. Even before her face slipped from the darkness, Mara recognized the silhouette of her friend, but confirmation still came with a shock as the wind whipped blond bangs out of Abby’s half-melted face.

  Mara gasped.

  Skin sloughed away from Abby’s right eye, revealing the bottom half of her eyeball and the top of her cheekbone. Below that, her flesh lay in loose folds, pulling her nostril to the side and the corner of her lips downward. A glimpse of teeth remained visible, even though her jaw was clenched. Waxy skin hung loose at the jawline. The right side of her face was a half-spent candle. The left was unmarred.

  The profile was Abby’s. However, when the eyes—blackened corneas and red irises—swept past without any recognition, Mara again had to remind herself that this was not her memory. If this creature did have memories, Stella would most likely not be one of them.

  Abby lifted her left hand, palm up. Blue light gathered above it, seemingly drawn from the periphery of the surrounding sphere. A tiny roiling sunburst spun and grew, and soon it melded into a swirling ball of molten blue mercury—the Chronicle of Creation in its activated state. Holding it slightly aloft, Abby twisted her wrist almost imperceptibly, and silver lines and nodes burst forth from the ball of light, filling the edges of the translucent sphere.

  One of the nodes hovered near Mara’s face, so close she nearly crossed her eyes looking at it. Stella’s face, Mara reminded herself. While Stella was utterly confused by it, Mara knew this silver ball, this node, represented the realm from which Stella had come. Abby reached forward and tapped it, startling Mara.

  The node opened a second black rift within the blue bubble that seemed to meld into the one from which Abby emerged—two amoeba merging into one—and Mara felt a strange tingling all over. When she looked down at herself, her body was shimmering, casting off a fluorescent green light that seemed to be expanding. Holding up her arms, she watched them dissolve into a misty stream, flowing toward the rift inside the bubble. She was evaporating.

  The black hole narrowed as more of Mara—or rather Stella—disappeared into it, exposing Jamie, now standing up with a large mixer held aloft over his head. Heaving it toward Abby, it struck her in the shoulder, knocking her off balance and sending her careening into the darkness. The translucent blue bubble collapsed with a loud electrical snap, taking with it the black rift.

  Mara’s head jerked backward, and her eyes flew open. She stared into Stella’s eager face.

  “Did you see it? Did you remember what happened in the kitchen?” Stella asked.

  Mara took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Yes. That was amazing. It was like I was there, like I actually lived it.” She looked down at the stone in her hand. It was now cool. “How long will I remember that? Is it permanent?”

  “As permanent as any memory you have. Over time the details may fade, but it’s a part of you now,” Stella said.

  Bohannon leaned over to look into Mara’s eyes. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

  “It was a bit disorienting, but I know exactly what happened. If you like, I can type out a complete report when we get back to the office,” she said, looking at the detective with a raised eyebrow.

  “I guess that would be great,” he said, mimicking Mara, who now slowly nodded her head. “So I suppose we have what we need for now.” He was about to stand up when Stella raised a hand.

  “Now wait a minute. You can’t just leave without giving me some kind of explanation about what happened,” she said. She turned to Mara. “I take it, since you aren’t completely perplexed by what you remembered, that you at least have some notion of what occurred in my kitchen the other night.”

  Mara looked down at the wood floor for second and then said, “I’m not sure about all the details, but I’ll tell you what I know. That blue bubble that appeared in your kitchen is a device that can be used to travel between realms.”

  “So that girl who exited the black hole is from a different realm, and she was trying to come into this one? Is that what was going on?”

  Mara shook her head. “I’m not sure what she was trying to do.”

  “Why evaporate me and draw me into that black rift? What was that all about?” Stella asked.

  “Whenever you use this device to send someone back to their realm, their physical body turns into that mist you saw, while it is being transported. It appears she was attempting to send you back to your realm for some reason, but I can’t imagine why she would want to do that.”

>   “So it’s possible for me to return to where I came from?”

  “Yes, if we can get that device she is using, I could help you return to your realm. Although you need to understand that your counterpart here is dead. There won’t be a replacement for you when you leave this realm.”

  “Jamie would be a widower.”

  “The Jamie in this realm already is, I guess. He just doesn’t know it, because you are here,” Mara said.

  “That would be awful for him. I’m not sure I could do that to Jamie.”

  “Either this Jamie or the one from your realm will have to deal with the loss. I think you should consider what would be best for you—assuming we are able to send you back one day,” Mara said.

  “So who is the girl who appeared in my kitchen, and what is she trying to accomplish?” Stella asked.

  “That I cannot tell you.” Mara felt guilty for lying and looked down at her hands. The memory stone Stella had given her was still in her right palm. She extended her arm toward Stella. “Here, you can have this back.”

  Stella raised her hand. “No, you need to keep that. It’s your memory stone now.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Normally, in a memory exchange, you would give it to me to share some experience of yours, but we agreed not to do that this time. Keep the stone and use it to share some memories with someone special in the future.”

  Mara arched an eyebrow. “You mean, I can use this to share my memories with someone else?”

  Stella smiled and nodded. “One experience or your entire life if you like, but it only works the one time, since you don’t have the ability to make a new stone.”

  “Can anyone use it?” Mara asked.

  “Anyone you choose can receive your memories, but only you can share them. It’s attuned to you, because you used the stone to receive my memory.”

  “And people do this all the time in your realm?”

  “Yes. It can be as casual as a handshake or as personal as making love, depending on what you share and with whom,” Stella said.

  * * *

  Back in Bohannon’s pickup truck heading north to Portland, the detective glanced over to the passenger seat and said, “So what was your hurry to get out of there after the memory trick?”

  “Hurry? What do you mean?” Mara evaded but was too tired to pull off being casual.

  “Come on. You’re not a very good liar. You didn’t even ask Stella if she recognized the girl, and that’s because you did. Who is she?”

  Mara paused for a moment and then sighed, deflated. “I’ve got this friend Abby who—”

  “She’s the one who followed you down to Pioneer Courthouse Square the day we met the Proctors, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess I didn’t realize you were aware of that. Anyway Abby got caught up in the whole mess that night we had the showdown with Prado when the shedding victims, the zombies, converged on the shop. There was a ceremony that was supposed to free Prado’s spirit from the shedding victims—and that part worked—but the downside was he ended up taking Abby instead and becoming some kind of metaphysical devil. Now she’s jumping in and out of our realm snatching passengers from Flight 559.”

  “I’m afraid to ask, but why?”

  “I don’t know, and I’m kind of afraid to find out,” Mara said.

  CHAPTER 45

  After Bohannon dropped Mara off at the shop, she checked in to find no customers and no issues waiting for her, so she closed up and went home. She spent the afternoon napping in her room, while her mother took Hannah out shopping. Now Mara sat, still a little bleary-eyed, in the passenger seat of her mother’s Ford Edge on their way over to Ned Pastor’s place to pick up the duplicate Chronicle he had fabricated. As Mara shifted in her seat trying to get the seat belt to not rub against her neck, she felt Stella Reese’s memory stone in her pocket. She slid it out and held it up for Hannah, who was sitting in the back, to see.

  “Hey, little girl, have you ever seen one of these?” Mara asked. She twisted the orange stone between her thumb and forefinger as she held it aloft.

  “Yes. It’s a rock. I’ve seen lots of them,” Hannah said.

  “No, I mean have you ever seen this rock before?”

  “Nope.” Hannah dismissed the subject by looking down to her lap where she held a comic book.

  From behind the wheel, Diana eyed the stone and said, “That’s an odd color for a rock. What is it?” she asked.

  “It’s a memory stone,” Mara said. “I can use it to share memories with someone, but it’s just a one-time thing apparently.” She described what happened at Stella’s house earlier in the day.

  Diana blanched when Mara described Abby’s emergence from the black hole. “What on earth do you think happened to her?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think those wounds came from our encounter before Thanksgiving on the roof of the shop. Most of the violence was over before Abby … got taken.” Mara looked out the window and took a deep breath.

  Diana noticed but decided it was not the time to get Mara to open up about her friend. Instead she asked, “Why did you think Hannah would recognize the stone?”

  Mara shrugged. “I can’t imagine wanting to actually share memories with someone, so I figure I might still have it around in the future. Maybe she saw it somewhere.”

  Diana frowned slightly. “Well, you need to remember she’s a five-year-old. It’s not like you are going to confide every detail of your past life to her. Oh! Speaking of confiding details, Hannah did say something interesting while we were shopping, when I asked her what she would like for Christmas.”

  Mara lowered her voice. “What did she say?”

  “Ask her yourself.” Diana cocked her head toward the backseat.

  Mara twisted around and said, “Hey, Han. What should I get you for Christmas?”

  “You don’t need to get me anything,” she said, not looking up from her comic book.

  “Why is that?” Mara asked.

  “’Cause I’m going to be gone before Christmas.”

  Mara narrowed her eyes as she looked at her mother, who nodded. “Gone where?”

  Hannah looked up and said, “Back to the future, silly.”

  The Ford Edge slowed and turned into a driveway behind an old white van. Diana put the vehicle in Park, and killed the engine and headlights. They were at Ned’s house. For a moment they sat in the dark, listening to the cooling engine ticking. She turned to her daughter and lowered her voice, “Does that mean you are going to send her back?”

  Mara looked aghast. “Not based on anything I know today, it doesn’t.”

  “Well, then how is she going to return?” Diana asked.

  “How am I supposed to know?” She held up a hand as she unbuckled her seat belt and looked over her shoulder. “Hannah, how do you know you are going back before Christmas?”

  “You told me before I left that I would be home before Christmas.”

  “Of course I did.” Mara rolled her eyes. Looking at her mother, she said, “My future self also told her that she would arrive here in time to go trick-or-treating, and I overshot that by nearly a month. Remember?”

  “That’s true,” Diana said.

  “We are talking time travel here. For all we know, she could be here until she graduates from college and still be home in time for Christmas in her timeframe.”

  “I suppose that’s possible, but I can’t imagine Sam would be pleased when you present him with a grown daughter for Christmas, when he’s expecting a five-year-old.”

  Mara slowly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Let’s just pick up the duplicate doohickey that might allow people to travel to alternate realities, before we try to solve the paradox of the niece from the future.”

  * * *

  The arched oak door they stood before looked a little too stately for the aging brick rambler to which was mounted. Mara leaned to the right, looking for a doorbell, and, not finding one, leaned to the left. Behin
d her, Diana reached over Mara’s shoulder and banged the tarnished brass door knocker mounted directly in front of them.

  “Why does Ned have a castle door installed on the front of a generic suburban home?” Mara asked.

  Diana knitted her brow. “Don’t be rude. Ned thinks the arches give his home a more welcoming vibe, invites in the good spirits.”

  “I forgot he’s one of your enlightened New Agey friends,” Mara said.

  “How you turned out to be so judgmental is beyond me. Perhaps if I had spanked you as a child, you’d have learned to have more respect for other people’s beliefs. Just keep in mind that you’re the one walking around with a memory stone in her pocket,” Diana said.

  Hannah tittered between them.

  Mara looked down at her and asked, “What’s so funny?”

  “Nana’s gonna spank you,” Hannah said.

  “She’s all talk,” Mara said.

  They felt footsteps coming toward them from behind the door. After a metallic click, the door swung open, revealing the tall, lanky silhouette of Ned Pastor. He smiled, and, instead of inviting them in, he stepped out onto the small porch, closing the door behind him.

  He pointed toward the driveway and said, “The workshop is around back. That’s where I have the medallion. Let’s go take a look.” After walking past the driveway, they took a sidewalk around the corner and headed toward the rear of the house, with Ned leading the way. As they proceeded, he glanced over his shoulder and asked, “So you said that something happened to the original medallion, and you are interested in the facsimile that I fabricated. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, the original was stolen, and I guess you could say I grew attached to it,” Mara said.

  “Well, I have to warn you that, while I was able to reproduce the look and feel of the medallion, I don’t think I was able to capture the spiritual power the original radiated,” he said.