ZenithRising

by Marilyn Campbell

  In an instant he was behind her and wrapped his arms protectively around her. “Cold?”

  She sighed and shook her head. “Not at all. Just…excited.”

  He kissed the side of her neck. “Good. I like you excited.” His hands moved up the front of her robe but before he could go farther, a bell tinkled behind their tent. Noah drew Maggie inside and said, “Come in.” Two young women in blue, flower-patterned saris entered the tent carrying large picnic baskets. Once Noah assured them they would serve themselves, they exited and a man wearing only a loose, short skirt of the same material as the saris entered with a tray holding two crystal glasses and a bottle of the delicious wine in an ice bucket. Noah nodded for him to uncork the wine but then excused him as well.

  Maggie would have been thrilled with a baloney sandwich in those surroundings, but of course such a travesty would never occur at the Davenport. Their feast began with a cold appetizer stack of crab, avocado and mango and ended with orange crème brûléeand chocolate-dipped raspberries. Neither felt the need to talk as they fully gave themselves over to the sights, smells and tastes of the moment. And with every sip of the wine Maggie pushed Ms. Davenport and her warnings further and further out of her mind.

  “Let’s take a walk,” Noah suggested once they had their fill of the delectable picnic. “We won’t need these.” He shed his robe and helped her out of hers.

  Despite being totally exposed several times, she still felt self-conscious in her old two-piece bathing suit. If this situation had ever crossed her mind, she would have bought a new one. But as his appreciative gaze slid over her body she knew the scraps of fabric wouldn’t be staying on for long anyway.

  The moon had risen high above the horizon and between its brilliance and the clear, star-studded sky, they had no trouble seeing where they were going. They strolled along with their arms around each other’s waists, but they were not alone on the beach and that awareness kept them from doing anything more intimate.

  Maggie’s curiosity finally got the better of her. “Would you like to tell me about what you found today?”

  He gave her waist a little squeeze. “I thought you’d never ask. I’m feeling really good about all the ideas I got. I actually found dozens of mysteries that I could work with. Of course Robert Davenport’s supposed suicide still stands out for me.”

  Her stomach soured a little as he went on with obvious excitement.

  “The era of the 1920s makes for a great backdrop but the family’s insistence that he would never have killed himself opens the door for so many possible plots—straight murder mystery is obvious but a little boring for my readers, evil demon lurking in the hotel hallways is more my staple but there’s also the angle of him hanging around as a ghost, terrorizing anyone who stays in his suite. Or he could have possessed some innocent person to carry out his retribution on…well, I’m not sure who. I haven’t developed that thought much.”

  “They all sound good. But, um, wouldn’t you need the permission of the Davenport family to use their ancestor?”

  He shrugged. “I wouldn’t use his real name. I’m not even using the hotel name. When my agent contacted the hotel’s public relations department, they were quite enthusiastic about the publicity potential so I don’t think there’ll be a problem.”

  You couldn’t be more wrong, Maggie thought then reminded herself not to dwell on potential problems tonight. She had plenty of time and a lot could happen before she had to do anything. Her mood lifted considerably with Noah’s next words.

  “I also found several mentions of a weeping woman. Unfortunately there wasn’t any true consensus. Too many possibilities. The 1928 hurricane alone accounted for thousands of dead, mostly lower income and African Americans. Some of them worked for the hotel though. You wouldn’t believe how many females died or disappeared from here over the years.

  “But I did find one tale in which the weeping woman was assumed to be a young hotel maid found dead on the beach in 1927. It was generally believed the girl had gotten pregnant illegitimately and just walked into the ocean to end her shame. But here’s the interesting part. The examining doctor reported seeing bruises on her throat and stated she may have been strangled first. In those days though, her death wouldn’t be important enough to investigate so the possibility of murder was buried along with her body.”

  “The maid I saw said something about her babe but she was turned away from me and on her knees so I couldn’t say whether she had a pregnant belly.”

  “Sounds like the unsolved murder victim could have been your Irish maid but that still doesn’t mean she’s the weeping woman.”

  They had walked quite a distance before their path was blocked by a thick stand of sea grape plants. There, where the cleared beach ended and the broad-leafed vegetation began, was a smooth, egg-shaped geode, as tall as Maggie. It had a long crack down the side facing the ocean but it wasn’t possible to tell what sort of crystal was inside.

  Noah stroked the rock then turned to her with a broad grin. “But here’s the best part of everything I read. A group of paranormal investigators slash ghost hunters spent several days here a few years ago. They picked up so many different hot spots and varying energies, they declared the whole hotel property is a portal. Would you believe that? It’s perfect for Hotel Hellgate. A doorway between dimensions and times is the perfect tool for what I had in mind. What do you think?”

  “I think…” She was distracted by the strong energy that seemed to be pulsating off the rock. It was different from what she’d felt in the Amethyst Cave, different from the energy field along the nature trail. Her gaze was focused on how pointedly the moon’s beam was illuminating the crack, as though awakening something inside.

  “Maggie?”

  She forced her attention back to him. “I think…you’re right. It’s perfect.” Now if you’ll just steer away from Robert Davenport as a character…

  “In which case, the person who built the resort would be like a gatekeeper for Hell.” He gave her a firm hug. “Thank you.”

  Her eyes widened with alarm as she envisioned her name being mentioned in his book’s acknowledgements. Her voice sounded slightly pitchy as she asked, “Why thank me? I’ve hardly done anything yet.”

  He shrugged. “If not for you I wouldn’t have done all that research so soon. I think you’re my new muse.” He slipped his hands around her waist and eased her closer. “Enough talking.” He leaned back against the rock, drew her close and kissed her forehead. “It’s a beautiful night.”

  She felt a strange tingling on the bottoms of her feet.

  He kissed each cheekbone. “The moon is putting on a show just for us.” He kissed her nose.

  The tingling moved up her legs.

  “And that ocean is really warm.” He kissed her mouth then outlined her lips with his tongue as his hands dipped into her bikini bottom. He kneaded her cheeks and rubbed his rapidly thickening cock against her.

  Her body was being aroused yet her mind was sidetracked by the ticklish sensation now shimmering throughout her body. Something physical was happening to her that had nothing to do with lust.

  “I passed on sharing the shower with you but playing in this water could be even more fun.”

  The weird shimmery sensation peaked then dissipated and she gave herself over to his mesmerizing kisses, his voice, his touch, his suggestion that they continue their play in the water. There was nothing she would not do with him.

  Until a wave splashed over her feet and deposited a clingy glob of seaweed. She kicked it off and watched a family of tiny crabs scramble back toward the sea. She was no longer entranced enough to follow him into that dark abyss. She also no longer felt any shimmering…except in her pussy. That part of her practically had its own heartbeat. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that much fun but…” She stroked his arousal until it straightened. “I’ve been thinking about that cushy lounge for two in the te—”

  Noah grabbed her hand and pulled her into a
light jog back down the beach. Seconds later they came to an abrupt halt. Where there had been five striped tents, there was now only a single tan one. As they got closer they could hear a man saying some sort of punch line and a woman’s shrill giggle. The flaps of the tent were securely closed.

  “What the hell?” Noah went to where the bell had been sitting but it was no longer there. Instead he saw the two robes they’d been wearing. None of it made any sense. “Excuse me,” he said aloud. “We reserved this cabana for the night.”

  After a moment of whispering the man inside replied, “I’m afraid that’s not possible, sir. My, uh, niece and I have it for the entire week and we were promised complete privacy.”

  Maggie picked up the robes and handed Noah his. “Something’s very wrong here. Let’s just go speak with the concierge.”

  Noah’s expression went from furious to worried but he accepted her suggestion. Rather than taking the side door they walked directly into the lobby, only to be brought to another sudden stop. Everyone there was in costume. Flapper dresses and feathered boas and sequined headbands. Old-fashioned tuxedos with white spats over polished black shoes. Even the staff uniforms had been changed to old safari-style outfits to fit the theme of whatever party was going on.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Nash?”

  Maggie recognized the voice and subtle Jamaican accent immediately. It was her bellhop, Reynard, wearing a crisp khaki ensemble complete with pith helmet.

  “If you will please follow me, I will take you to your bungalow.”

  Chapter Six

  “Who did that?” Karma roared. “Who let the fox out?”

  None of the Abstracts spoke but one by one their thoughts shifted to Love.

  “I am sorry,” she blurted out. “But the test was unfairly difficult. They only have five Earth days before all their fates are sealed forever. It was illogical to have them spend a chunk of the time figuring out when and where they were and how to manage.”

  Justice rose to her defense. “Love has a valid point though I am not convinced releasing the fox was the best solution. What is done is done however. Since I presented this mission I will take the responsibility of getting Reynard back in his cage.”

  Karma was far from satisfied but accepted Justice’s promise. “See to it that you do. Quickly. Earth’s humans are having a difficult enough time without Deception running freely through the ages.”

  Once, long ago, The First would have had something to add but as Earth aged and humans multiplied it became necessary to allow others to function without constant oversight. The First could never forget how, when that conclusion was originally drawn, things were thrown into chaos with humans mucking about without rules or consequences. That era was followed by a period of them being constantly controlled and manipulated like marionettes, not only by the Abstracts but beings of other dimensions who had slipped in while no one was on guard.

  As a solution, The First had set down guidelines by which the Abstracts could interact with humans, interfere with their lives or make revisions to their individual histories. Toward that end, portals were created on Earth so that moving through time or dimensions was only possible in those locations at specific times with limited duration. Use of a portal had to be approved by all members of the Council before being presented to The First for activation.

  Because altering events that had already occurred was the most tempting yet most potentially disastrous sort of interference, the guidelines regarding such had to be the strictest of all. The first rule prohibited any change that would alter fixed historical events affecting a mass of humanity. The second required valid justification for a revision. Using humans for entertainment or experimentation was not permitted. The third most important rule established that a change could only be made by a pair of humans working together, without excessive assistance from the Abstracts. That was the rule that had just been bent by Love.

  The fox was serving a sentence of restraint on Crystal Island due to his unapproved involvement in American politics in the 1970s. It didn’t matter that his interference turned out to be beneficial. It was against two of the basic rules. The fox’s desire to be free, even for a short time, would make a deal with him the quickest solution to Love’s desire to help Maggie and Noah. Perhaps an official reprimand should be recorded in The Book, but that would not happen.

  The First always tended to give Love more leeway than the others.

  * * * * *

  “Bungalow?” Noah asked in an edgy tone. “We have the Diamond Suite. In the main building. And we also had a private cabana reserved for this whole night and something…someone—”

  “I assure you I can explain but now you really need to come with me before one of the other guests notices you in those robes. They have not yet been added to the guestrooms.” He hurried them back out the door and over to an open-air, horse-drawn carriage waiting on a wooden boardwalk then bowed with a flourish.

  Maggie glanced at Noah and asked, “Am I crazy or did I completely miss seeing this before?”

  As he helped her step up into the backseat, he murmured, “You’re not crazy. This boardwalk was definitely not here this morning.” His frown remained in place as he and the bellhop climbed into their respective places. Reynard lightly flicked the reins and the horse clopped forward.

  It was all so strange but one thing surfaced above the others. “Reynard, you know I’m not Mrs. Nash.”

  “It will be much easier here if you introduce yourself as such.”

  Noah leaned forward and tapped Reynard’s shoulder. “What do you mean, here?” He didn’t get an answer but the carriage came to a halt mere seconds later.

  Maggie and Noah shared a bewildered look. They were in front of a row of bungalows, somewhat similar to the ones they’d seen that morning but, besides the architecture seeming different, none of them were painted the same colors as before. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the yellow rocker on the porch in front of them. They held further questions until Reynard took them inside then they let them spill in a rush.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Why can’t we go back to our suite?”

  “Exactly where is here?”

  “Why weren’t we advised of any of this in advance?”

  “Why do we need to pretend I’m Mrs. Nash?”

  Reynard smiled and politely waited for them to stop asking questions. “I only have a few minutes before being discovered so I must give you the short version. You are still at the Davenport Hotel and Beach Resort. In fact, you passed by this exact bungalow earlier today. However, when the full moon reached its zenith the two of you were transported to the year 1927. You cannot go back to the suite you were in because Mr. and Mrs. Robert Davenport are in residence there.”

  The bellhop took a quick breath then continued before they could question such ridiculous statements. “You were unable to bring anything with you but what you were wearing or holding at the time. Unfortunately that was not much so I left the robes for you to find. Because someone felt sorry for you, I was given a rather unusual opportunity in exchange for making certain arrangements for you, like this bungalow. The closet and drawers have time-appropriate clothing and you will have no problem signing for meals in the dining room or through room service. But in case you need cash, there is a supply of currency in the jewelry cabinet.” He handed Noah the key to the bungalow then turned to Maggie. “Oh yes, about your name. The mid-twenties were hardly an era of Victorian morals but pretending you are his wife will avoid a lot of unnecessary explanations. If asked who sent you, say ‘Teddy Roosevelt’. And now I must be on my way. I hope you have a pleasant and successful stay.”

  “Hold on,” Noah said, grasping Reynard’s arm before he could get out the door. “Say for just a moment we accept everything you said, what are we supposed to do now? How do we get back?”

  The bellhop’s expression tensed and his gaze darted upward. “They know I am here.” His speech picked up to auctioneer speed. “Th
ere must be something you have to take care of. Or fix. Usually the pair has an idea what it is before they are transported. You had better figure that part out quickly because you will not be able to get back unless you do whatever you are here to accomplish.

  “Even when you do, the reverse transport can only take place if you are on the same spot on the beach at the moment of zenith of the moon. The bad news is each mission comes with a deadline and I was not told what yours is. It could be as short as a week or as long as a year from now. Unfortunately, after the deadline the portal closes and it will not matter what you do. You will be here, in this time, to stay. I really must go.”

  Noah tried to stop him again but he was gone. Literally. He and the horse-drawn carriage had vanished in the blink of an eye.

  He turned slowly around then went through the one-bedroom cottage, opening doors, drawers, checking behind curtains, the backs of pictures and the bottoms of lamps.

  Maggie watched him get more agitated as the seconds ticked by. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for a hidden camera or recording device. This has got to be an elaborate practical joke of some kind.”

  “Noah, we just saw him and a horse and carriage disappear into thin air. That would be awfully hard to create.”

  “Maybe not. A lot can be done with special effects. Maybe a magician is involved.”

  “Didn’t you say you believed ‘anything’s possible’?” She got a smirk for her reminder and he continued his search. Maggie bit her lip as he continued crawling along, looking under every piece of furniture. “Noah? You know that talent you insist I have?”

  He looked up at her and his expression changed from annoyed to curious. “Are you picking up something?”