by Zoe Forward
“No.”
He grabbed his cell phone off the desk and dialed Eli. “What did you find out about her?”
Eli replied, “I’m not going to play games about this girl, Matt. I told you Bryce has got a hard-on to find a girl named Katherine. He’s pressuring all of us. Hard. I still think your Katherine is one and the same.”
Matt fell into his desk chair, which groaned in complaint. “She really could be one of the Pleiades.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“I couldn’t find jack shit on Katherine Ramsey with a K. She doesn’t exist. Bryce ordered everyone to scout for her. I do mean everyone. When we find her, we bring her to him. He doesn’t often give us the details on the whys of what he demands. Bryce’s craze might make sense if she is a Pleiad.”
Matt spun his chair to stare out the window and consider his options. “I need you to hack into security footage from my office. Then email me the camera footage of her exiting the building this morning.”
“Her as in Katherine Ramsey? You had her in your work building today? What. The. Hell?”
“This is between you and me. I rescued her from an Acquisitions team last night.”
“Oh, Christ. Is she okay?”
“I healed her. She’s a little shaken up, but fine. Then she ditched me this morning right after breakfast. I don’t know if she walked out of here or shifted away. I need the footage. After you send it to me, corrupt it.”
“Can do.” Eli cleared his throat. “You need to speak to Bryce about this.”
“This is none of his business.”
“All right. I’ve got your back. I’m just warning you. Bryce’s got a burr so far up his ass about this that if he finds out you harbored her, he will go nuclear. I also feel obligated to say if she is a Pleiad, then your helping her had better be to get her protection, and not one of your booty calls.”
“Just send me the goddamned footage.” He hung up.
…
Online research at the library showed the date here was the same as at home. History wasn’t exactly the same, although Kat found some similarities as she scanned internet news. She wondered if she had an identity in this world and Googled herself. A few hits came up, but none were her. She typed in the webpage of her clinic in North Carolina and discovered the staff was completely different. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about running into herself.
She Googled Matt. A photo of him on the cover of a celeb magazine propelled her heart to a sprint. The top button of his white dress shirt was undone and his black tie hung loose. That half smile and six-o’clock shadow sent liquid fire throughout her body.
She skimmed the article and a few other interviews. They confirmed he’d built a powerful company, but she only cared about his personal life. He’d been linked to a handful of women. But only one marriage a few years ago, which lasted six months before he and his wife separated. His wife committed suicide weeks later. How sad. As much as it hurt to realize he’d loved another woman enough to marry her, she wondered why it’d been so short. This was the history of a man not big on commitment. He’d be perfect, if she was looking for short-term.
What is wrong with you? She wasn’t looking for any term. She just wanted to go home. There was nothing related to Matt and magic online, not that she’d expected it.
Someone in this world or hers would be able to make sense of what she was doing here and how this reality change was possible. She punched through a few web searches, finally getting helpful hits with “research on dimensional travel.” A theoretical physicist at Columbia University popped up with a few publications on dimensional time travel. Based on the number of blog sites with his name, and the pages of debate, they must be highly controversial papers. Columbia was in the city. Close and quite convenient. She jotted down the professor’s phone number.
An hour later Kat approached a student absorbed in a thick textbook, reclining on the stone steps of an academic building. Apparently, the kid was immune to the bitter wind that tore through his clothes. Shivering, Kat pulled the cheap wool coat she’d purchased at Goodwill tighter, jealous of the kid’s tolerance of the cold. How she missed the South. They never got more than a dusting of snow, and never wind that could spear through any cloth barrier.
“Where’s the physics department?” Kat asked the student.
The kid gazed at her with a vacant, somewhat stunned look. He removed his earbuds. “You talking to me?”
“Yes. Where is the physics building?”
He pointed. “Over there. Pupin Hall.”
“Thanks. Sorry to bother you.”
Heat enveloped her in a cocoon of warmth as she stepped into Pupin Hall. She ran up several flights of stairs to make it into Professor Yossi Webb’s office two minutes late for their designated meeting, and opened the door to a modest room filled with books piled haphazardly on shelves. The floor was cluttered with stacks of papers and notebooks that, if it was organized into a system, could only make sense to the owner of the office.
“Hello. Anyone here?”
“Yeah, have a seat,” said someone on the floor behind the desk. “Found it.” A hand waved a well-worn piece of yellow notebook paper over the desk before a head appeared. Clear, dark eyes peered at her through small wire-frame glasses.
The man’s graying black hair was pulled into a striking comb-over to swirl from the back of his head to the bangs.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Katherine Ramsey. I called this morning.”
“Oh, right. You had some questions on dimensional travel. Are you a reporter?” His cold tone conveyed distrust. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“No, it’s a personal question. Are you Dr. Webb?”
“Yes.” He glanced impatiently at the wall clock. “I only have a few minutes before I’ve got to teach.” He shuffled through the notebooks on his desk.
“Dr. Webb, is it possible for a person to move between realities? Like live in two different worlds?” she asked.
His motion halted. He closed the notebook he’d been thumbing through and peered at her over the top of his reading glasses. “Why do you ask?”
“I just need to know what you think about it. Theoretically, of course. I’m writing a book.”
He rose from his chair and moved to the office door. He pointed a finger out the door. “Look, Miss, if you’re a jumper, you need to get out of here. Please.”
“What do you mean a jumper?”
“They got me once. Held me for a week until they finally believed I didn’t know one. You wouldn’t believe what they did to me. I’m only a physicist. Most of my theories are based on the story of this Australian lady I met six years ago. She vanished within days of when I met her and I never heard from her again. I think they got her.”
“What are you talking about?”
He closed the door and rested his back against it. He took a deep breath, then continued in a hushed tone. “A jumper can move between dimensions.”
“There might actually be people that can do this? Wow. Did she say she was the only one?”
He pushed up his glasses and gazed at her for a few seconds. “She suggested there are others.”
“Where could I try finding this Australian woman?”
“Like I said, she disappeared. I met her on a trip through Costa Rica at a hotel.”
“Why do you think this woman could move between dimensions?”
His eyes took on a faraway look. “I theorized that something in this person’s genetic makeup allows for the person to move in such a way. Perhaps, with disciplined training and experimentation it could be a tool to be used to learn about dimensions. I started looking for jumpers. But…”
When he didn’t resume after a few seconds she prodded, “But what?”
“They found me and I’ve been trying to forget about the whole thing since. Are you a jumper?” He cocked his head as if fascinated, but there was a distinct tremor of fear in his tone.
&nb
sp; “Not that I’m aware of. I was just curious about your theory. That’s some pretty good material, though. Can I use it?”
He visibly relaxed. “No. They’ll go after you.”
“Who are you talking about? Who will come after me?”
“The OLM. Order Lutomaleficum. They’re a fanatical fundamentalist Christian sect. There’s nothing sanctified by God in what they do, at least in my opinion.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got to be going. I’m sure you can find your way out.” Looking distracted, he pulled open the door and scurried away.
She stared at the spot he’d vacated. She was a jumper, and there were others like her. For the first time since realizing she was stuck in this alternate dimension, relief washed over her.
A trip to Costa Rica was out of the question. Her mind snapped to Matt. Maybe he could point her in the direction of the right people, other magical people. Her mind seesawed between fear she couldn’t handle the desire he evoked, and her need for knowledge.
She was so distracted in her thoughts as she headed toward the building’s exit that she almost hit a tall, dark-skinned man. She mumbled an apology.
He grabbed her arm. “Come with me, Ms. Ramsey. We need to talk.”
She put the brakes on and glared at the physically powerful man towering over her. He reminded her of her would-be kidnapper from last night. Today, there wouldn’t be a Matt to save her. “Who are you?”
Uncompromising black eyes silently communicated hostility and insisted submission. He was dressed to blend in with a forgettable black overcoat and jeans. A skull-fitting fleece hat camouflaged his hair.
Softly, he ordered, “Please come with me. Your life is at stake.”
Her gut insisted she flee. Now. His attitude didn’t convey the knight-in-shining-armor persona. His mind was nothing but determination. “I don’t think so. Let go of me.”
“Come quietly, or I’ll make it hurt.” The man’s grip on her upper arm turned bruising.
The muscle monster dragged her beside him toward the exit from the physics building. She stomped the heel of her sneaker into the top of his shoe.
He grunted and yanked her close. “Listen, you little bitch, one more move like that and I’ll carry you out of here. Alive or dead. They don’t care.”
On instinct, she focused her power of suggestive communication and surprised herself by confidently ordering, “Let. Me. Go.”
The man’s eyes glazed, and he released her. She slapped the heel of her hand against his chin, knocking him away from her. With a pivot she ran for the exit.
A noise like a racquetball hit sounded behind her. A second later, dust scattered around a hole inches above her head in the wooden door. He was shooting at her!
Glancing back, she saw the man emerge from the building behind her, lock onto her, and follow. She sprinted to the far side of campus, slipping a few times on the slick walkways. She heard the suppressed pistol fire again at close range. Razor-sharp pain sliced through her upper right arm. She grabbed the area and darted between the buildings.
She halted in the alcove and pulled open a side door. Pulling her hand away from her arm, she saw blood. A lot of blood. She spied a women’s restroom and dashed inside. Beneath the coat and shirt, there was a wide gash. This would require a hospital visit. For now, a wad of paper towels stuffed under her sleeve was the best she could do.
Exhaustion and weakness powered through her. She collapsed on the floor. Without thinking she touched the brand on her wrist, the one from Matt that she forgot to ask him about yesterday. The familiar dizziness started again.
Chapter Nine
The frigid wind tore into Matt’s body while he scanned Shinnecock Bay below. The arctic chill thrashing across the cliff didn’t faze him. Whitecaps tossed chaotically in the water beneath a gray-green horizon that threatened more of the atypically early snow. Waves crashed relentlessly against the rocky shore.
He dreaded the impending interview, and had been tempted to call it off when he found out the reporter was running late. But the company needed good PR. The only reason he had agreed to this interview was the recent media frenzy speculating on his impending nuptials. To complicate matters, the media accused him of a sordid affair with one of Hollywood’s hottest starlets, whom he’d never met. He needed to show his corporate persona.
He leaned into the wind, enjoying its bite. But it didn’t cool his frustration. Between his worry for Kat, who he now knew to be somewhere in the city unprotected, and a board meeting rife with infighting, it’d been a horrendous day.
To top it off, he had received an email from Bryce saying, “We are going to talk. Name your time and place.”
Eli must’ve relayed his suspicions about Kat, or Bryce coerced him into revealing them. The right thing was for him to turn Kat over to the druids for protection, when he found her again. He would find her. He smiled and massaged his wrist. He could try to track her when she reentered this dimension. But, he wasn’t so sure on the turning-her-over part.
A sidelong glance caught view of his estate manager, Sam, approaching. The deep grooves of his face were drawn into a pinched frown. He clutched Matt’s forgotten winter coat tight to his body as he fought the wind to make it up to his cliff perch. Sam had handled the thirty-acre Ryan estate for two generations of Ryans. He was proudly training his daughter to follow in his footsteps, not that Matt expected the old guy to retire until he fell over dead. Thank God that would be a long way off.
“Mr. Ryan, the reporter and her photographer have arrived. We prepared the sunroom for the interview.” He held out the coat. His glower suggested not taking it would lead to an argument Matt wouldn’t win.
He shrugged on the coat and followed Sam back to the house. “How did Milo’s vet visit go this morning?”
Sam grinned. “The old geezer tried to bite the vet again. Your dog has got red flags all over his chart, but this new vet was fresh out of school. He thought he was better than anyone before him.” Sam chuckled and shook his head. “Conceit of the young.”
“Did Milo hurt someone?”
“I had to muzzle him since they couldn’t get the nylon thing on him, and then they took him to the back. The vet looked a bit haggard when they returned him to me. I swear that dog looked proud, but they didn’t mention any problems. They did suggest sedating him next year. I think they mentioned that last year, too. Milo got an overall good bill of health.”
Matt laughed. “He’s a tough boy. Wants life to be on his terms.”
“You’re right about that. Milo will outlive us all.”
Matt smiled and squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “Thanks for taking such good care of him. He’s…Milo has been with me through tough times. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to take him today.”
Sam nodded and wrapped his arms around his chest, bracing against a new blast of wind. “I almost forgot. There’s something wrong with the helicopter. The pilot doesn’t think it’s safe to fly in the storm that’s settling in. He said it’s going to take a while to repair it, but expects it to be ready tomorrow morning. Shall I arrange a car to take you back to the city this evening?”
Matt sighed. “No. I’ll stay until tomorrow.” They both entered the house.
Sam took Matt’s coat. “Very good, sir. Dinner at eight?”
“Let’s do the kitchen tonight. The formal dining room only feels right for company.” He pulled out his cell and texted his mother to let her know he wouldn’t make it for dinner.
…
The interview progressed as expected for nearly thirty-five minutes when sensation ripped through the mark on his wrist. Kat was close. His heart directed as much blood as possible to his groin. Subtly he shifted, hoping the pressure against his zipper would deter his erection. The move backfired, and only worsened the pressure of confinement.
Through the glass wall of the sunroom, Matt caught sight of Kat’s small body as she fought against the wind and falling snow, stumbling toward his front door. She clasped a black wool
coat tight around her. Auburn hair whipped in the wind, the snow contrasting beautifully against its rich red. Just as he was about to jump up to help her, she made it to the sidewalk, and safely on her way to the front door. Watching her, he was so transfixed that he completely missed the reporter’s question.
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” he asked politely.
“During the past few years you’ve reportedly been linked to many famous women around the world, most recently with Cindy Ellison. Were these affairs real, and if so, do you plan to stop them when you get married again?”
“I have no plans to marry any time soon.” Matt leaned back in the suede plush chair and gave the young reporter what he hoped was an inscrutable stare.
The reporter prompted, “In Ms. Ellison’s TV interview last week she clearly indicated preparations for a wedding were in the works.”
He needed to squelch Cindy’s little campaign to drag him down the aisle. “I have not proposed to anyone recently, and certainly not to Cindy.”
The reporter remained silent, clearly expecting him to expound. When he didn’t she asked, “Do you mind being labeled an international playboy?”
“I don’t believe I am.” Matt lifted an eyebrow, daring her to push him on this line of questioning.
Momentary unease crossed the reporter’s face.
Matt wondered if Kat was inside the house yet. He shifted impatiently. Would this interview never end? He had more important business. Like determining if one beautiful redhead was a Pleiades, and convincing her how much he’d make it worth her while to rescind the curse. He was tempted to use the Voice and end the interview.
The reporter clicked off her digital recorder and closed the notebook in which she’d pretended to take notes. She stood, smiling with satisfaction. “Thank you, Mr. Ryan, for taking the time to speak with me. The photos we got earlier should prove to be brilliant.”
“You’re welcome. Sam will show you out.” He stood to shake her hand, but his eyes strayed toward the front of the house. Kat had to be inside by now.
…
Kat gazed at the giant man who answered the front door. On instinct she knew Matt had to be nearby. Every time she jumped into Otherworld she bumped into him. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I need to speak to Matt Ryan.” She gripped the bannister tight when dizziness caused her to stumble. She’d bounced between Matt’s world and hers within a minute. Between the energy drain from two jumps, and blood loss, she was sapped.
