by J M Fraser
He banged the side of the console with his fist. The globe bounced up, came back down, but still showed a pale blue, cabin-less interior screaming for a hard reboot.
But how? It wasn’t like he could unplug the thing and pull out the battery.
He grabbed his cell phone and called Kara.
“Hey, Brian, how did the finals go?”
“Great, but here’s the thing. I’m near Sidney, and the cabin finder isn’t working.”
“Sydney, Australia?”
“Yeah, maybe I’ll stop in Perth while I’m at it. Come on, Kara, this is no time for jokes.”
Someone in the background shouted her name. The phone went silent for a moment. Then… “Brian.” Her voice had fallen to a whisper. “You won’t believe this.”
He pressed the phone against his ear.
“I have a seven-letter word if Brad leaves an E open. Hang on a minute.”
“What? Wait! This is serious.”
He was the one to wait, listening to his sister’s annoying squeals of laughter from somewhere away from the phone.
“Kara!”
Like she’d hear his shout. The clown probably got so caught up in the wild excitement of a Scrabble game she forgot the call entirely.
He grabbed the globe. Stared into the blue fog.
His right wheel hit the shoulder, kicking gravel. He righted it. Put the globe back. Focused on the road.
What could he do but keep driving? He passed a truck, blew by a cluster of cars, and groped for answers that didn’t involve strangling his sister. Maybe if he shook the globe harder it’d start working. Yeah, or set seismograph needles jumping all across western Nebraska. He kept his hands to himself.
Finally, long minutes later… “Sorry, Brian! So what’s the problem?”
“The cabin’s gone.”
“That’s what the crystal ball is for.”
“No, I’m talking about the little one inside of it!”
Someone called her name again. “I better run, Brian. We’re playing with a timer. Just say the magic word, and the globe will lead you wherever you need to go.”
“But I—”
The phone went dead.
Magic word. Like he hadn’t tried that already. He pulled off at the Lexington exit and stopped on the side of a frontage road. “Cratchmunkin?”
The globe clouded over, and…
A new scene appeared.
Brian blinked.
Two identical, old-fashioned motels faced each other on either side of a country road. Mirror reflections.
But what did they mean?
He snatched the coin out of his pocket—cold silver. He wasn’t dreaming. Rebecca’s cabin was gone.
* * *
At the Sidney exit, Brian cruised past Hal’s boarded-up service station and headed north. He spotted an aging relic of a motel just out of town, a dive so old the flickering vacancy sign with its burned-out letter C advertised Air Conditioning in icy blue letters. Like that was a big deal. Forget about Wi-Fi or cable.
A cartoon penguin smiled down at him.
Early winter darkness had already descended, so stopping to spend the night made a whole lot more sense than pressing on. Even if the crystal ball eventually did show Rebecca’s cabin, he wouldn’t be able to see any chimney smoke until morning.
He parked by the chain-link fence surrounding a snowed-over outdoor swimming pool, stole another quick peek in the globe for the cabin…and gasped.
The two miniature motels inside were perfect copies of the one he’d driven up to. Even the tiny signs matched—Air Conditioning and the penguin.
Kara hadn’t said a thing about her magical GPS having the creepy ability to mimic a roadside scene before he’d even driven there…or spawn a duplicate like an amoeba. In reality, only one motel existed. The lot across the road lay vacant.
Rebecca’s words of wisdom popped into his mind. Anytime something odd happens, consider it a clue.
He’d already made some great discoveries following the vaguest of hints—the mirror, her scarves—not enough to free her from whatever warp in the universe held her in its vise-like grip, but plenty of stuff about her background and current predicament. So when a snow globe hit him upside the head, screeching clue at him, he needed to check the scene out.
He left his car and headed to the lobby. Squinted at the handwritten sign taped on the glass of the entrance door.
Closed for the winter. See you in March!
He sighed deeply enough to scare a bird into flight.
Back in his car, he tried calling Kara but couldn’t get a signal. Seriously, his parents needed to find a more reliable cell service provider.
A flickering light on the other side of the road caught the corner of his eye. He swung to look out the passenger-side window and saw…nothing in the darkness.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. The crystal ball hummed like a high-tension power line. He grabbed the thing.
Zzzzinnnggggg. A sharp jolt of electricity buzzed his hand.
He dropped the globe to the passenger seat, flexed his fingers—still working, but tingly—waited for his heart to stop beating in his throat, and glared at the culprit.
The globe brightened. The miniature motel on the left now glowed with tiny lights like a Christmas tree.
Something across the road blinked again.
This time, he turned fast enough to catch it—a flashlight, maybe—beaming dimly at first but then brighter and brighter until it exploded like a supernova. He clamped his eyes shut and saw spots.
The dashboard started clicking.
He reopened his eyes.
The left turn signal blinked its arrow on and off, on and off, pointing toward the vacant lot.
This was getting way too creepy. If an arrow pointed like that in a horror movie, anybody dumb enough to head in the general direction would get chain-sawed, axed, or stabbed at the very least.
But Rebecca needed help, didn’t she? She was trapped in some kind of weird dream dimension. She’d been framed by a phooka. She believed in a prophecy. Her allowance of visits was running out. And every single weird event he encountered might be a clue how to save her, regardless of whether he might have driven straight into a Saw sequel.
He took a deep breath, threw the car into gear, and headed across the road.
A bubble of shimmering air came at him like the thin veil of water in an automated car wash. He gripped the steering wheel with clammy hands.
Whoosh. The bubble swept over his car.
A motel appeared, identical to the one across the way—twins, just like in the crystal ball. Seriously?
Units three, four, six, seven, and nine in the new building flicked their lights on one after another like falling dominoes. Cars appeared out of nowhere—antiques like from Hal’s era. They filled most of the parking spaces. A vacancy sign glowed above a lobby lit well enough to reveal someone standing behind the check-in counter.
Hal?
Stoddard?
Abigail?
The lobby brightened even more, providing a clear view of the girl inside. She wore a scarf and a faded country dress.
He rushed out of the car to greet Rebecca. Stopped just inside the building.
Blinked.
This blonde-haired, ponytailed kid in jeans was so not Rebecca.
“Hello, Brian.”
They’d met twice before. Her name was…?
“I’m still Gabriella.”
She had the creepiest eyes. Did he notice that the last time?
Yeah. He turned away, feigning nonchalance while planning to run like the wind once he escaped out the door. Forget about the stupid crystal ball. He could look for the cabin on his own.
“You won’t find it this time.”
“Yeah. Well, I better get going, anyway.” He grabbed the door handle.
Gabriella closed in on him faster than should have been possible. “I’m here to help you.”
He cringed. “Help me how?”
“
By letting you see what this has been about.” She grabbed his hands, sending warm tremors all the way to his elbows.
The world skipped a beat. The floor wobbled.
He yanked his hands free. “What the hell are you?” His words came out slurry.
“I could sprout wings to give you a hint.” Gabriella’s voice had a tinny echo.
He met her gaze and found a hint of sadness deep within those creepy eyes. Vulnerability, too.
“Give up, Brian,” she said. “Go home. Rebecca only has one life left. After that, she’ll fade into a future you can’t possibly live long enough to see.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned to the door.
“Shall I show you?” Gabriella took him by the wrist, shooting tremors up his arm again, right through the sleeve of his jacket. “Come with me. You’ll learn the bargain she made.”
Like he had a choice. He let her lead him from the lobby into a hallway lined with doors on either side.
Chapter 40
With each step Brian took, the dimly lit hallway stretched longer. Gabriella led him to one of the many doors along the way, opened it, and stepped into a leafy forest, in the dead of winter, crossing an impossible bridge from one set of time-space coordinates to another.
He hesitated. Behind him, Nebraska offered the security of a world he somewhat understood.
Ahead, the general murmur of a bustling settlement brought goose bumps to his arms.
Colonial Salem, where answers waited? Yeah, like maybe telling him how to end whatever spell locked Rebecca inside the dream world when she wasn’t hanging herself to get out.
He hurried after Gabriella.
“You won’t like what I’m taking you to see,” she said.
He gritted his teeth and kept going.
Warm, piney air carried the hint of summer. Night hadn’t fallen yet, but the shadows were long. By the time they reached a clearing, half the sun had disappeared below the horizon, and a pale moon hovered over a scene so terrible Brian’s knees buckled.
Three victims hung from a gallows with necks bent in a real bad way.
Broken.
He braced a hand against a tree, shut his eyes, almost puked. Abigail’s prank wasn’t some harmless spell. People were dying.
“Nineteen poor souls hanged in 1692,” Gabriella said.
He turned away.
“You’ll want to know what happened to Rebecca, Brian.”
He dragged after her, along a path of trampled twigs and leaves, skirting the edge of the forest. Waning sunlight gave way to darkness. Burning tar soon thickened the air, followed by flickers of light in the near distance. A murmur of voices rose above the buzz of insects and caw of a crow.
Torches cast a glow over a circle of hand-holding, hooded women in a clearing. Rebecca and her mom sat on a bench in the center, dressed in white.
“Rebecca!” He started toward them.
Gabriella clutched his sleeve. “None of them can see or hear you. Not even her. You’re here to watch and listen.”
She pointed out an older woman perched on a wooden throne. “That’s Angelique, the coven queen.”
But the gathering wasn’t all witches. Henry Stoddard sat on a throne on the opposite side of the circle. He was dressed in a ridiculous star-studded cape, like some colonial superhero.
The women on either side of him broke their circle of hands rather than hold his. Who could blame them? Rebecca might have referred to this guy as an ally, but he’d never come close to inspiring trust, in Brian’s book. “What’s he doing here?”
“Angelique invited him. She’ll want to cut a deal to chase him out of the district. Witches and sorcerers don’t get along.” Gabriella settled onto a log and patted the space beside her.
Brian edged onto it.
The queen cleared her throat. “It pleases the court this night to deliberate high crimes against the Sisterhood.” She pulled a parchment scroll from a pocket of her cloak, frowned at it for a long moment, then glared at Rebecca’s mom. “Martha Church, what manner of parent allows her daughter to cast spells on innocents?”
Rebecca’s mom looked down.
“The Puritans have gone on a hanging rampage over the effects of Rebecca’s curse. Dost thou dispute the crime committed on thy doorstep by thine own flesh and blood?”
“Nay.” The woman’s voice barely rose above a whisper. She took Rebecca’s hand.
Rebecca leaned into her and whispered.
Her mom flashed the hint of…a smile?
Brian caught a glint in Rebecca’s eye, as if she and her mom were up to something.
Hopefully. Except the overall atmosphere was much heavier with menace than hope.
Angelique studied her scroll again. “We propose an exile to the far frontier. The powers of the Sisterhood shall bridge the netherland and whisk thee to a forbidding region of sand and hills.” She glanced up at the witches. “Do ye say aye or nay?”
“Aye!” Voices rose all around the circle.
The queen gazed across at Stoddard. “Perhaps you wish a kinder fate for the woman foolish enough to welcome you into our district?”
The sorcerer stared at Rebecca…and winked? “’Tis no moment to me wouldst thou relocate a witch.”
Again, some hidden meaning? Brian turned to Gabriella. “What am I missing?”
“Watch and listen,” she said.
Two of the witches took Rebecca’s mom by the hands and led her away.
Angelique leveled her sights on Stoddard. “These troubles started after you arrived in the district with imps in tow.”
The sorcerer shot out of his throne. “Dost thou accuse me of mischief?”
“No. We simply offer a gift if thou wouldst choose to leave.”
Stoddard swept his gaze around the circle. He arched his brows. “A gift from witches?”
“Aye. Young Sarah Chance shall serve as thy bride.”
Sarah Chance. The image of a fading name on an old gravestone popped into Brian’s head. He shrugged it off as one of those weird memory flashes. Things recalled that never happened. Déjà something. Except, didn’t he dream about—
A teenage girl stepped out of her place in the circle and headed toward Stoddard. She lowered her hood, revealing a shock of hair so achingly auburn an ice-cream flavor could have been named after her. Her eyes were blue enough to have fallen straight out of a midwinter sky.
The sorcerer touched her hair.
She shrank from him. “We haven’t courted yet, sir.”
“Then kneel beside me until we do.”
Sarah slapped his face.
Shocked silence all around. The girl and sorcerer stared each other down. Then, “Be more respectful,” she said. “Do you see legions of my sisters clamoring to deal with you?”
Stoddard doubled over with laughter. He started to speak. Stopped. Wiped tears from his eyes. “Aye, Angelique, a fair bargain this is.”
But the queen had shifted her attention back to her scroll. She read in silence. Looked up. “Rebecca Church, thou art accused of unauthorized witchcraft. Spells, and curses in particular, shall never be cast without coven approval. You have ignited the fire of rage now scorching us all. What say thee to the charge?”
Rebecca met the queen’s stare with shoulders squared and head held high. “I ne’er intended the consequences of my act.”
Brian jumped off the log. “Abigail did it!”
Gabriella grabbed his wrist. “Can you not control your misguided urge to rescue this girl?”
Misguided? He pulled away from her. Took a step forward. “This gets better, Rebecca. If I can’t help now, I will be there for you like I promised, when you come looking for me. You’re everything to me.”
A gust of wind caught him head on, pushing him back. But did he catch a hint of recognition in her face? A secret smile?
Gabriella got hold of his sleeve and tugged him onto the log. “Watch and listen.”
He clenched his fists. If
the situation in the circle got any worse, he’d lower his head and charge, Gabriella or no Gabriella.
“Rebecca Church,” the queen continued, “we sentence thee to serve five centuries in the World of Mortal Dreams.”
“A word, Mum?” Rebecca said.
The queen glared at her. “Dost thou plead for leniency?”
“In a small way. Exile me until the sixteen-hundredth anniversary of the Pogrom of a Thousand Tears. ’Tis more than three centuries from now…certainly a harsh enough sentence for my crime.”
Three hundred years? Brian had trouble breathing the heavy air. The math wasn’t hard to do. Sixteen-ninety-two plus three hundred and twenty, give or take, and a gigantic puzzle piece fell into place. Rebecca had never been exiled against her will. She’d gone along with the sentence, using her time in the World of Mortal Dreams as a portal to him.
All of this time he’d been trying to rescue her and—
The queen’s angry voice cut into his thoughts. “We shall decide the proper sentence for the crime. Five hundred years.”
Rebecca winced.
“Huh?” Brian turned to Gabriella. “Then how did she get off the bus so early?”
Gabriella mouthed the words. Watch and listen.
“Mother Angelique,” Rebecca said, “you know the tenets of our code. An anchor is customary for those exiled to the netherland. I request the right to visit my mum in her cabin.”
The queen scowled. “Very well. We need no reminder of our Code from the likes of a wayward witch who casts spells without permission. We shall grant a single visit during each solstice, and thou shalt ne’er stray more than twenty furlongs beyond the site.”
And there it was. In more of a duh moment than wow, Brian now knew the meaning of the phrase he heard the day Sharon cornered him about her Witch of the Hills research. Twenty furlongs but never more, the circle at the edge and the cabin at the core. He’d already guessed some sort of spell bound Rebecca. The fact she’d had a hand in its casting sure was news, though. Another kick-in-the-head announcement that everything had played out the way she wanted. Rebecca had never been looking for rescue by a hero.
