“Yes… to answer your concerns, young boy. They are coming. We haven’t much time. No, not much at all. The field will keep them at bay for a spell. But how long… that is the question. Isn’t it? Now come… come. Into the living room. You’ve come seeking answers. This I know.” She laughed, pushing Frank forward down the hall. “I know many things, come to think of it.”
“And Kathie?” Frank breathed, locking eyes with the frail old woman.
“In time, young boy, in time. Now let’s get ourselves comfortable in the kitchen. These old bones can’t handle standing for very long. They need their rest, but first how’s about some tea?”
A loud hiss of hot air from the kitchen came just as Frank and the others reached the living. It startled Frank.
The tea was ready.
17
When Frank and the others entered the living room, it was exactly as he had remembered. Everything in its place and a place for everything.
The living room walls were lined with old torn and cracking wallpaper that must have been there since the house had been built, back in god-knows-when. By the looks of the striped green and brown wallpaper, Frank estimated the house was at least 80 to 110 years old. The stone fireplace was covered in dust and probably hadn’t been used in years. A huge framed portrait of a middle-aged couple hung above the mantel. On his last visit to the shop with Kathie, old Miss Yortsdayle had told them both an elaborate story about how the photo was of her great grandparents and that it had traveled overseas on a pirate ship or something. It truth, like many of the things the old hag had said during the stupid visits, he hadn’t much paid attention to the story.
The curtains lining the windows, which overlooked the front yard, were the same as the fireplace. Dust covered. The entire house was just a fire hazard waiting to happen. The lights were down low, only one small lamp in the far corner barely doing much to drive the darkness back.
Really, the living room was less of a living room and more of a shop. Shelves lined the walls on all sides, excluding near the windows. The shelves were about chest high and housed a variety of books. Candle magic. Find your Center. The Inner Light. The Chakra in us All. Soul Food.
All of it nonsense.
Other than the shelves of books, Frank knew he could care less about, the room was stacked with Wiccan paraphernalia. Candleholders, incense burners, pentacles, and all kinds of other silly crap were stacked on different tables. Each piece individually priced for sale.
A lamp sat on a display case at the far end of the large living room. An old dusty cash register rested on top. Small impulse purchase trinkets were displayed in little wooden bowls, but the real treasures were the stones and crystal shards arranged on shelves. Some of them seemed to glow against what little light reflected off them from the small lamp. The others didn’t stand out as much. They just didn’t have that same shine, which was probably why they were priced lower. Frank snickered to himself. He still just couldn’t get over how all of this was just a bunch of horse shit. This was a waste of time. He needed to be out looking for Kathie, not in here goofing off.
And just as that thought flashed in his mind another took its place. That thing she did with the necklace on the porch—pushing the orange light-field back and causing it to be night time again just around her house. Talk about some crazy shit.
And with that… now things were different and he intended to be all-ears, no matter how outlandish and stupid the old lady started to sound.
He followed Joana, Tim, and Miss Yortsdayle past the storefront area into another room. Rather than a door to open and close, the doorway was lined with beads that Frank had to push aside as he entered. The beads rattled in his ear like a hissing snake. The room was one he had been in a time or two before with Kathie. The fortune telling room. One large round table sat in the center.
The room was as cliché as it could get. Mirrors along the wall. The glass ball on the table. This old chick had it figured out. He couldn’t blame her. Gimmick sales. And gimmicks she definitely had plenty of.
As they passed through the fortune telling room into another area that he had never been before, the hissing whistle of the boiling pot of water got louder and louder with each step.
The kitchen was surprisingly bright, unlike the rest of the poorly lit house; the overhead lights in the kitchen were all on. The tile floor was a bright white and the counters and cabinets painted a baby blue. The entire room reminded Frank of something out of the 1950’s. Steam shot out from the kettle’s spout whistling its hatred for pressure. When the little old lady reached up removing it from the stove’s burner, the steam settled and the noise faded.
Miss Yortsdayle looked ages older in the harsh light, the liver spots covering her skin much more apparent. She set the cane against the counter, waddling over to a small door next to the stove. It was odd. The door had two handles on it. One on the left and one on the right. She reached over grabbing the left handle. When she opened it, the shelves on the other side of the door were lined with dishes. She reached in, retrieving five mugs. When she looked back at her visitors, she sighed, putting one of the mugs back in its place. She set the four mugs on the counter and closed the door. She then reached over and grabbed the handle on the opposite side. When the door swung open in the opposite direction, Frank’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. The shelves were no longer lined with dishes. Instead they were filled with spices and cooking seasonings. She pulled a clear jar down that was filled with sugar cubes and closed the door.
“How the hell did you do that?” Frank gasped.
“She can do crazier stuff than that, trust me,” Tim said, looking down at Frank and Joana’s joined hands.
“I take it one of you didn’t make it,” Miss Yortsdayle said, obviously ignoring the comment about her pantry.
“Yeah, but how would she know that?” Joana whispered, still holding Frank’s hand.
Tim stepped over, scowling at Frank and Joana. He took her by the other hand, yanking her away from Frank. “You need to back up, man.”
Frank just rolled his eyes at the young immature punk and turned his attention to Miss Yortsdayle. “Excuse me, miss… how did you know that…”
His words trailed off, Joana unable to hear him because of Tim. Her boyfriend pulled her aside at the far end of the kitchen and locked eyes with her.
Keeping his voice low enough for just the two of them to hear, he said, “What the hell gives, Joana? You got the hots for this guy or something? He’s a fuckin’ janitor, for Christ’s sake.”
“What are you talking about?” Joana said, trying to still hear Frank and Miss Yortsdayle’s conversation. The old lady, from what she could hear, was talking about David Outlaw and how he was supposed to be with them. “I just—”
“Just nothing, Joana.” Tim grabbed her by the arm, still keeping his voice low. “What am I supposed to do?”
“I just need you to be here, Tim,” Joana pleaded.
“What the hell does that mean? I am here. I freakin’ helped get us here, didn’t I?”
“Well, yeah…” Joana sighed. “You are here. But you’re not actually here.”
“What the hell is it with women being all cryptic and shit?” Tim shook his head.
Joana started to explain, but it looked like Frank was getting frustrated with Tim’s aunt. She walked over, handing her and Tim warm mugs of tea.
“Here you go, sweetie.” Miss Yortsdayle smiled, the mug shaking from side to side in her unsteady hand.
“Joana took the mug and returned the smile. “So, aren’t you a little old to be Tim’s aunt?”
“Oh, yes… yes…” She nodded, turning back toward the stove and shuffling over awkwardly without the use of her cane. “I am actually in no way related to Timothy. I was, however, there when he was born. Watched him grow from afar, yes. Me and his mother were close… once. Not now. Times change, no doubt.”
“So you’re not actually related?”
“Nope,” Tim said, lifting
his steaming mug to his cut lips. “Still, I’ve known her all my life. Look up to her like a second mother, I guess.”
“Come… let’s have a seat,” Miss Yortsdayle insisted, waving them to the small table pressed against the wall in the corner. There were three chairs. She took one, Joana and Tim took the others while Frank stood. “I remember it like it was yesterday. I was there when Timothy was born. What an event.” Her eyes glistened and her smile went wide as if rehashing the events in her mind. “He wasn’t born in the hospital like most babies these days. No, back then Timothy’s mother was a different woman. Free spirited. A natural birth was the only way to go. And the only way I would ever recommend—”
“No offense…” Frank interrupted. “I don’t think that now is the time to reminisce, do you?”
Miss Yortsdayle’s smile faded along with that glistening look in her eye.
“We don’t mean to be rude,” Joana butted in. “But we were hoping you could help us.”
“Yes… the stones.” The old lady nodded. “Of course… of course.”
“We want to send them back,” Tim said. “How do we do that?”
“You mean the Arktos ?” Miss Yortsdayle sipped from her mug. “The best way to have done that would have been to never bring them here.”
“Well, that wasn’t exactly planned.” Tim cringed, looking away from his friends.
“Of course not, Timothy. Of course not. You didn’t intend on any of this to happen when you came asking me all about the Geomancy rituals. Had I known you were going to steal the stones from me, I would have never told you how they worked. The multi-verse isn’t something you can just toy around with, dear.”
“You stole them from her?” Joana hissed.
“The multi-what… the geo-what… What the hell are these stones?” Frank looked flustered.
“That’s how this all started,” Joana said, looking up at him. “You know this. We went over some of it in the truck. The stones… you know.”
“Yeah, but I don’t see how a handful of stones could do something like this. Something like what I saw her do with that one around her neck.” Frank pointed at Miss Yortsdayle. “And what the hell is the multi-whatever.”
“The multi-verse,” Tim breathed, taking a sip of his tea.
“That’s right,” Miss Yortsdayle said, looking up at Frank. “You have heard of a parallel universe, no? It is one and the same.”
Frank nodded.
“Well…” Miss Yortsdayle continued, “The multiverse, or meta-universe, is more than just a hypothetical set of multiple possible universes that together comprise everything that exists and can exist. It’s more than that, because it is… that, you see? Yes… the entirety of space, time, matter, and energy as well as the physical laws and constants that describe them are all comprised of the multi-verse. Worlds within worlds that are in turn within worlds. The possibilities are endless. Humans on one world. Talking bears on another. Whatever your mind can fathom is a possibility.”
“So those bears out there are from another universe?”
“Something like that.” Tim nodded.
“And the stones? I just don’t see how that could ever work? Magic stones… come on.”
“Oh no, my boy. They are more than just magic. Magic is just a force. The stones are much more than that. They all are. Stones have power over our names. Over all things.”
Miss Yortsdayle stood from her chair. The wooden legs screeched against the tile as she pushed it back. She eased herself away from the table and made her way over to the stove. Frank, Joana and Tim watched as she set her mug on the counter and proceeded to pour herself another cup of tea.
Frank leaned over within earshot of Tim, and said, “Dude, your aunt is nice and all, but I don’t see how going over all of this shit is getting us anywhere. We need a freaking game plan. Not only for how to get rid of those fucks, but for in case they decide to show up at her front porch.”
“Hey…” Tim whispered, throwing both hands in the air. “You’re the one that keeps asking her questions. Not me. And the whole multi-verse is kind of her soapbox, so… I don’t know what to tell you there.”
“Do you really think they’re going to show up on the porch?” Joana asked, her eyes wide with concern.
Before Frank could answer her, Miss Yortsdayle eased her way back to the table.
“Now, where was I? Oh, yes… yes… of course. Of course,” she said with that old and fragile voice. “The stones.”
“Miss…” Frank started to interrupt, but she didn’t pay him any mind and kept on with what she was going to say.
“Have you ever read the Bible? Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. The stones. They’re in there too. Even Jesus of Nazareth talks about them. And who was Jesus?”
Joana raised her hand as if in grade school.
“Yes, dear?”
“He was Christ, right?”
“True. Very true indeed, but not the answer I was looking for.” Miss Yortsdayle smiled, watching Joana lower her hand. “He was and is the corner stone. Do you see? Do you see?”
Miss Yortsdayle’s excitement increased while she sat there letting it sink in for her visitors.
The three stared at her blankly.
“Oh, me, oh my. Yes… yes,” the old woman said, starting to get back up. “Where are my manners? Who else wants some more tea?”
“I would,” Tim said.
Frank stepped forward, not letting the old woman stand, while waving at Tim and shaking his head no. “We’re fine, really. Please… we are thankful for the hospitality. But we need to get to the meat of the situation. A mob of monstrous creatures from another world. The multi-whatever. I’d like to get around to the part where you tell us how to send them back to wherever the hell they came from.”
“Of course… of course.” Miss Yortsdayle nodded, sinking back into her seat at the table. “The stones. Yes… I was getting to that.”
“Good.” Frank bowed, stepping back a little to give the woman some personal space back.
“He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says. To him who overcomes I will give some of the hidden manna to eat. And I will give him a white stone, and on the stone a new name written which no one knows except him who receives it.”
“And what does that mean?” Joana asked, setting her empty mug down on the table looking into it emphatically.
“Well, it means…” Miss Yortsdayle continued, “stones have power. This we know. But how do they have that power? Christ Jesus, son of God, was made the corner stone by his father. With him as the first living stone, an omnipotent force, the rules were changed. If you possess the stone, you have access to worlds beyond this one. He isa foundation. The foundation on what all facets of reality are built on.”
“The afterlife,” Tim chimed in.
“Yes… yes.” Miss Yortsdayle smiled. “For those who have made it, taking possession of the stone that transports them to the new realm he has given them new stones. Imagine thousands of stones, one given to each of us who make it to the new realm, or Heaven. Holding individual powers all their own. A name that is only known by the beholder. You see… do you see? There is power in the names. Names hold power.”
Frank stepped away from the table, walking over to the kitchen sink and looked out the window. The darkness in Miss Yortsdayle’s backyard was still there, the stone she had used still keeping the field of energy at bay by a few hundred feet. Beyond her backyard he could see the orange hue or light eager to surge forward consuming them again. Letting those creatures in. He thought of the highway and how those cars were piled up, unable to move past the field. He knelt forward, looking up through the window at the sky. It felt good to see the stars overhead. He sighed, still trying just to wrap his mind around it all.
“So, how the hell do stones and names have anything to do with the situation now?” Frank turned around leaning against the sink.
“Like I said before…” Miss Yortsdayle stood from her chair and wa
ved at the two kids to help themselves to more tea. Making her way to the pot of warm water, she said, “Imagine that there are many stones with many different uses and powers. Somewhere down the line, stones were lost, stolen, or worse… taken by force.”
“And the stone around your neck?” Joana asked, walking up behind the old woman and pouring herself a fresh cup of tea.
Miss Yortsdayle patted the stone hidden under her shirt and smiled. “All things come with a price, I suppose.”
“Hell, that reminds me.” Tim snickered. “How you pushed back the field like that. What is that orange field all about anyway?”
“The Arktos have stones of their own. Yes… yes they do. It was not them that penetrated our world. It was us that imposed upon them. The field is a safety they have set into place. Keeps them from being out numbered during the extermination.”
“Extermination?” Joana gasped.
“Well, yes,” Miss Yortsdayle said, turning to make her way back to the table, her mug filled to the brim. “The portals will close when they leave. And they will leave when there are none of us left. The Arktos aren’t the only ones who have ever been invaded. There are many others. Sad… sad business it is, if you ask me.”
“Sad? What the fuck are you talking about?” Frank demanded. We aren’t the ones slaughtering them by the hundreds.”
“True.” Miss Yortsdayle sipped her tea. “But we are the ones whose government have known about these stones for quite some time and have used them to enter other worlds more times than I can count. Where do you think our rapid technology comes from? Other worlds. What do you think Stonehenge is? A portal. The stones are the key. We don’t know where or why it was built, but that is because the government wants to keep it hidden.”
“Bullshit.” Frank rolled his eyes.
“Fine. Don’t believe me,” Miss Yortsdayle hissed. “I don’t care. Nope… no I don’t. Not one bit. I don’t need to tell you how to stop them anyway. It’s just all make believe. Frank, you think I don’t know how you feel about all of this? Kathie is smart to trust in me. To trust in what I know. Because what I know is the truth!”
Killer Koala Bears from Another Dimension Page 14
