by Susan Murray
Use it to mend what was broken.
Pulling the keychain necklace off over her head Marley opened the clasp, removed the old woman’s gift and put it on Alison’s forefinger while making a silent, heartfelt wish. “I think this is meant for you.”
“Um?” Alison glanced at the shabby ring on her finger dubiously. “Okay, thanks.”
The Dark sat up and rubbed his forehead with both hands in confusion. “Who are you people? Where am I?” He looked around himself suspiciously. “Was I asleep?” There was absolutely no sign of recognition on his face.
Max, Marley, Rutgers and Alison all exchanged surprised glances. “Do you know your name?” Max finally asked him.
The Dark thought it over, his face wrinkling with effort. “It’s Delroy, I think. I should be going. I just get an hour for lunch break. Do you know what time it is?”
Marley shook her head wordlessly. Delroy got shakily to his feet and headed for the door. “I guess I’d better get back to work. It’s like Mr. Nicholby always says: those shoes won’t sell themselves.”
Max lowered the gun he’d held pointed at The Dark and directed it more or less toward the floor. They all watched as Delroy took a last puzzled look around then left the room, crossed the lobby to the elevator bay and punched the down button.
A Muzak version of Barry Manilow’s Copa Cabana tinkled from speakers set into plush gold walls on either side of the elevator doors and Delroy tapped his foot briskly in time with the melody while he waited, humming softly under his breath.
“Shouldn’t we stop him?” Alison wondered aloud, “He’s getting away.”
“I think we should just let him go.” Marley almost felt sad as she explained. “I mean really, look at him.” Delroy was bobbing his head in time to the music, clearly enjoying the tune. “I don’t think he’s dangerous anymore.”
Delroy was no longer wearing his cape (the creature’s transformation had ripped it to shreds) and he seemed somehow rather smaller than his former self. Marley resolutely pushed the memory of his pet from her mind. That was one recurring nightmare she sincerely hoped she’d never have.
“You’re sure we’re letting him just walk away from all of this?” Alison’s tone was quizzical as she looked from Max Sherman to Rutgers to Marley.
Max quirked an eyebrow at her. “What would you prefer to do with him?”
Alison replied briskly, “Put him on a cargo ship to Iceland. He could wake up in Reykjavic naked with no money or ID.”
“Nice plan.” Max nodded approvingly. But no one actually made an effort to stop or approach Delroy. The elevator door pinged open and Delroy got in, still bobbing his head appreciatively in time to the music as the elevator doors closed behind him.
Max tucked his gun back into its shoulder holster. “Look, I don’t know about you all but there are still a few details I need to wrap up here. That guy stole my book and I bet he has it stashed somewhere around here. I’m going to see if I can find it. It’d probably be best if you ladies leave with Rutgers right now. I’ll have Buzz and Janus handle the situation with Werther and the headsets. And remember, for now don’t say a word to anyone about me being alive. I’ll be in touch later today, okay?”
Alison nodded. “Rutgers can drive us back to the Kid Factory. Marley are you coming?”
“Yes please.” Marley replied. “Can you drop me? I hope Rutgers won’t mind an extra stop.” They were sharing a smile all around so there was no possibility whatsoever of anyone mistaking what came next.
Alison stood up and walked toward the door. Without pain, without falling and most importantly, without her wheelchair. Just like she hadn’t spent the past six years of her life paralyzed. And the look on Alison’s face when she realized what she had done was priceless.
“Gahhh. . .” said Alison brilliantly, holding her right leg out in front of her for her own stupefied inspection. Her face wore a look of astonished joy as she stared down in grateful wonder at her own two feet planted firmly on the floor. She was beaming and standing up and not falling over. Even Rutgers’ normally impassive face wore an expression of pure amazement at the sight.
Marley breathed a silent prayer of thanks to the old lady and her magic ring. Apparently wishes did come true. And in the distance, from somewhere almost beyond hearing, Marley could have sworn she heard the old woman’s silvery laugh.
CHAPTER 38
October 31st – 11:00 p.m.
Marley stretched out on the futon in Uncle Max’s attic and gave a huge sigh of pure happy. She’d had a really long (albeit most excellent) day and it felt terrific to finally get off her feet. Uncle Max had called five minutes ago while she was brushing her teeth, just to say a quick hello and to let Marley know that he had found the stolen Book of Rights amidst The Dark’s abandoned luggage.
Max and Buzz and Janus had taken charge of the situation at the Target Center. The tainted headsets had been intercepted then taken somewhere to be destroyed so they wouldn’t cause any harm. Werther and the rest of The Dark’s gang had left town and were nowhere to be found.
Max assured Marley that, although he was in far less danger now that The Dark no longer posed a threat, there were a few loose ends he needed to wrap up before he could officially return to the world of the living. After telling her not to worry and promising Marley he’d be in touch, Max said goodbye and hung up.
Marley smiled. Maybe there were happy endings after all. True, The Dark had gotten clean away with the murders of Zoey and Zach St. Claire not to mention various and sundry other offenses. But somehow Marley doubted a case could or ever would be made against the motivational speaker. Assuming anyone ever found him.
There had been quite a commotion at the Target Center earlier when The Dark failed to appear for his scheduled meeting with the Inner Circle. The Circle meeting had ultimately been canceled, leaving hundreds of confused Darkers milling about the Target Center with an air of bewilderment as word spread among them that their leader had vanished. Here and there a few spontaneous but short-lived games of Dark Tag had broken out, but for the most part small groups of uncomfortable adults dressed in all-black clothing stood around sheepishly until the police finally dispersed them.
Later that evening Marley and Alison had been eating spaghetti together while watching the news when Channel 20 covered the story of the missing motivational speaker with a ‘have you seen this man?’ type photograph of The Dark. The serious tone of the anchorman’s voice and his solemn request to contact the authorities if they had information regarding his whereabouts had for some reason sent them both into gales of giggles.
Marley and Alison hadn’t really discussed the events of the day with each other or Uncle Max and Rutgers in any real detail. They’d all seen what happened that afternoon, yet none of them could come up with a ‘rational’ explanation for events. Marley had briefly explained to them about the fortune-teller’s gift of the silver ring and they’d let it go after that, as though talking about it further might jinx Alison’s amazing recovery.
Their good mood had lasted all the way through Hallowe’en night as they handed out generous fistfuls of candy bars to grateful ghosts, witches, goblins, werewolves, vampires and monsters alike. Uncle Max’s porch sported no less than four big ceramic candlelit pumpkins, their orangey glows all fierce and smiling as they lit the walkway.
At one point during the evening when it was Marley’s turn to answer the doorbell she opened the door and found Rosa standing there, accompanied by a handsome young man with dark skin wearing brown leather sandals, an embroidered red cotton shirt and baggy brown homespun pants.
“Gaspare is that you?” Marley squeaked in disbelief, swinging the door wider for her friends. “Won’t you come in?”
“We can’t stay, we’re on our way to a celebration.” Rosa replied. “But we’ll see you at the café later.”
Marley couldn’t stop herself from staring openly at Gaspare because the man who stood before her was flesh and blood, solid as a rock. Marley could even see his chest rise and fall visibly with each breath he took. This was no ghost.
Gaspare grinned hugely and spoke to Marley. “Fear not, Marley. All is well.” This was the first time Marley had ever heard his deep, velvety voice. Rosa reached into the plastic candy pumpkin Marley still held in nerveless fingers, selecting a Milky Way bar for him and another for herself.
Another group of trick-or-treaters arrived then, a swarm of noisy children demanding sugar so Rosa and Gaspare took their leave, peeling the paper wrappers from their candy bars as they walked off into the night. Marley could think of more than a few questions she’d like to ask them both, but for the moment those could wait.
The evening was steadily busy after that, a constant stream of children stopping by Uncle Max’s place and taking handfuls of sweets with them as they hustled the neighborhood for their sugary swag.
Marley and Alison took turns answering the doorbell and handing out candy and never once did Alison’s brilliant smile fade as she danced her way through the evening. She’d been in such a terrific mood she hadn’t even scolded Marley for eating so many Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups nor said a single word about how fruit would have been so much healthier.
Later, sitting on her futon in the attic, Marley reflected on how well Alison had hidden her disappointment when Marley told her she intended to return the Eye of Inanna to Zage that very night in order to restore the pattern. Even though Alison had obviously wanted to get the Eye into her laboratory for analysis she’d just smiled, shrugged and let the subject drop.
Marley knelt on the futon for a moment, looking up and admiring the way the stars looked overhead, framed by Uncle Max’s skylight. Feeling glad that it was still Uncle Max’s skylight since he was alive and well. Thanking her own lucky stars that she was the same way.
Marley thought about Galea and Zage.
Pondered a future that awaited her in the past with a man she didn’t really even know yet. Then flipped the Eye of Inanna up into the air like a lucky penny and watched as it spun and shimmered overhead, a lovely whirling blur of light. And waited for her past-future possibly someday husband to join her.
EPILOGUE
Miles of soft desert dunes shifted and stirred like restless sleepers under the deep blue light of the full moon. A sweet wind whispered along the tops of the dunes, sweeping sand from its path gently as it went. Under the wind’s touch, sand drifted and trickled back from the glowing white statue of a woman of great beauty, face turned upward to the moon. A great dune was piled high all around this lady of stone who kept her face turned to the starry night sky.
All around the buried statue and mostly covered by the sand lay dozens of large blocks of white stone scattered carelessly about in piles. Each one of these stone blocks had been shaped into roughly the same dimensions as the others and it was clear that they were the tumbled ruins of an ancient building of some kind.
Gradually the wind picked up then, swirling idly around and about the dune until it whirled itself into a small tornado. And as the wind cleared more and more sand away from the white statue the lady’s long white robe became visible. When the sand shifted back even further it revealed that the woman held a sword in one hand and a sheaf of wheat in the other. The face of the statue was breathtakingly beautiful, as was the white stone city emerging all around her.
The wind moaned, redoubling its efforts and another statue was freed from the sands. A huge, black stone lion stood crouched beside the woman, its front paws spread playfully on the ground. It grinned up at her in obvious adoration. The ancient artisan who had carved the beast had done an extremely fine job of capturing its lifelike expression and had even carved a collar around the lion’s neck on which hung a solitary bell.
Swept clean by the wind, a wide open multi-level plaza became visible under the moon, complete with white pillars which ringed the edges of a mosaic floor. Colorful designs embedded in the white stone mural depicted a long-forgotten constellation and various strange creatures which roamed the edges. A large square door cut into the rock at the far end of the long plaza seemed to open onto a broad set of stone stairs leading down and these disappeared into shadowy darkness below.
At last clear of sand, the city ruins gleamed like bones under a midnight sky, shining back at the moon and glistening as though the moonlight was water. From a distance, the faintest jingle of metal and men’s voices drifted through the night air and echoed across this peaceful scene. The city seemed to hold its breath.
A train of camels traveled the shifting desert sands a half mile away, moving in single file toward the ancient ruins. This caravan was using the cool of the moonlit night to traverse the otherwise scorching sands as it made its way across the desert.
Someone, somewhere along the line of travelers burst into jubilant song, his mellow baritone voice cheerfully carrying through the silent night as he regaled the caravan with a risqué account of a herder’s daughter he’d met back at the last oasis.
This unsolicited serenade continued for several minutes despite the protests of his fellow travelers, until someone finally hurled something that struck the troubadour squarely on the back of the head with a soft and pulpy smack.
“You should thank me instead of throwing fruit.” The musician grumbled sulkily to his unappreciative audience as he brushed date juice from his shoulder. “In Baghdad the women love me for my singing.”
One of the other men laughed back mockingly over his protests. “They will love you more for your money, which you will have if you are quiet and keep your eyes open for the ruins.”
“I sing my songs to please the Goddess so she will lead us to her treasures.” The musician replied.
“Sing like that again and she will give you fleas instead.” Someone called back and there was more laughter. Carried on the wind from a distance, these words echoed across the ruined city which lay exposed and gleaming brilliant in the moonlight. For a moment all was silent then the wind rose again, reversing its swirl and tossing the sand right back to where it had come from.
With a groan the entire sand dune which loomed over the exposed city abruptly shifted, spilling like an avalanche over the statues and pillars on the plaza below. Slowly at first then faster the level of sand rose again, burying the lion and creeping up over the Goddess’ shoulders, covering them both completely.
The camel train wound on through the night, the only sound that of the camels and the jingle of their harnesses as they grumped and shuffled along under the weight of their burdens.
And so it was that minutes later the small caravan of would-be looters walked right by the ancient city and never saw a thing.
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