Dangerous Designs (16 page)

Her fingers stroked her swollen lips. Eric. She hadn't wanted to leave, to leave him. For all the comfort of being home and seeing the same old furniture and purple walls she'd lived with for years, there was no satisfaction to being here.

Dumping her backpack on her bed, she headed for the washroom. At the doorway she stopped, a niggling sensation reminding her she'd yet to be separated from the stylus since this mess had begun. Being apart didn't feel right even now. She ran back, did a quick change of clothes, snagged up her bag, and then headed to the washroom. Downstairs, the evening air had cooled the house. Darkness added to the clamminess, the empty feeling chilling her further. She'd thought her mom would be home by now, but apparently not. She'd traveled to another dimension and back and her mom was still out with her friends. Weird.

Heading to the den, she checked on the wall. And couldn't stifle the sigh of relief that there was no evidence the Louers had tried to break through again. There had to be a way to stop them from coming here permanently. The last thing she wanted was to have to keep an eye on the wall every time she came home.

She only had Eric's word that the Louers were horrible. She needed to stop them from coming into her home, but she didn't want to kill them all off. She didn't even kill spiders. But there had to be a happy solution for everyone here. If only she could find it.

Could she draw a lock on the original door? Or draw another dimension between her world and theirs? Then if they did cross they'd end up in the new place and not know there were more dimensions. Did just drawing something like that make it so? That brought her back full circle; just what capabilities did the stylus have?

Retrieving her sketchbook from her room, she decided to find out.

She pulled up the old rocker, turned on the pole lamp and sat facing the repaired wall. Figuring out a solution could take some time. Would the stylus figure it out for her? She held the thought of a permanent solution, of a locking system and a dimension between her world and theirs, then let the stylus work.

If the Louers found a better world than hers, they might be happy there and look no further. Her world
was
lovely. So, theoretically theirs would be too. They might find it like a holiday resort, compared to their current living standard. Something she knew nothing about. Again, she had only Eric's word that the Louers were the bad guys – but if they
were
like locusts, destroying everything in their path, then she wanted to make sure they stayed a long ways away from her world.

Not realizing what she was doing on a conscious level, she rocked gently in the chair as her hand flashed and dipped, crossed and slashed through its creation process.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. How she could do this without looking she didn't know. Still, she was so tired...and she let the room slip away.

The front door opened a little later. Storey recognized the familiar sound of her mom's return. Damn. She rubbed her eyes with her left hand. Moonlight poured into the dark room, lighting her sketchbook. The stylus was still busy creating. She didn't want to stop. This was too important.

Her mom walked through to the kitchen. "The power is out, Anton."

It was? The power had gone out and she hadn't noticed? Had she actually slept? Then the rest of her mother's words registered. Storey stiffened, her eyes widened even as bile rose up the back of her throat.
Anton?
Her father? No way.

The deep male voice made her heart beat a jungle roll in her chest.

"Probably just a breaker. There could have been a power outage, I suppose. I'll go check."

Jesus, it almost sounded like him. At least, as her imagination remembered him. Her dad had left ten years ago. What was he doing here and why would her mother act so...so normal about it all? And how the hell would he know where the breakers were located?

Swallowing heavily, Storey glanced at the clock. She'd been in here for an hour plus. In the dark. "Hi. I'm in the den," she called out.

"What are you doing sitting here all alone with just that little bit of light? Are you okay? And why aren't you in bed asleep?" Her mother entered the room, worry evident in her voice. Storey was sorry for that. She hadn't meant to be such a constant concern.

And there was more to come. She needed a cover story for the cracks in the wall, too. "I'm just sitting here. I couldn't sleep, so I came down to draw, but it's too dark without lights. Weird. Then there was that even weirder tremor, earlier."

"What? An earthquake? We didn't feel a thing." Storey's mom hurried to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay? You weren't hurt by it, were you?"

An odd rose perfume wafted over Storey. Strange, she didn't recognize it. "No. Just restless afterwards."

"Oh, dear. You should have called. We'd have come home." Her mother looked around the small room. "I hope there's no damage."

"I couldn't see much with the power outage. Maybe a little cracked paint." Storey grinned in the dark. What a great cover story. And dreamt up in mere seconds.

"As long as you weren't hurt, the rest is nothing. It's probably time to throw up another coat of paint anyway."

Storey smiled.

"What's with your bag?"

That worried note had entered her mother's voice again. Storey glanced down at her backpack, thinking quickly. "It has my art stuff in it."

"Oh." And there, that predictable relief again. Storey didn't think she wanted children if it meant a roller coaster ride of emotions like that. A man walked into the room. Storey stiffened, searching the gloom to see his features.

Her father.

Her heart and mind took an immediate hit. No contact in ten years and now he just walked in like he owned the place. Her eyes locked on him and wouldn't let go. How many times in the last ten years had she wanted, needed to see him again? She gulped softly. Not trusting herself to either slug him or hug him, she chose to stay where she was.

"The tremors must have knocked the power out. There's no phone either. I can go to a neighbor's house to check and see if they have at least a cell phone working or wait until morning. They might have it fixed by then anyway," he said.

Storey's gaze widened. He was acting as if he lived here – the nerve. And how did he know about the neighbors?

"Considering the time, we might as well go to bed. The power will be back on in the morning, I'm sure."

Storey wasn't. Her world had been rocked several times tonight. Her hand still sketched at a mad pace under the cover of darkness. She needed to finish. Soon. At some point, exhaustion would take over. Mental chaos had begun to move in. At least there was no room for the nagging doubt about leaving Eric and his people alone to fight this war.

"Storey, are you going to bed now? You have school tomorrow."

"It's a school day tomorrow?" It felt like Saturday. But then Eric had said it was Sunday. Crap. She was twisted up time-wise, as well.
Damn.

"No, Sarah. Remember, she has the day off."

Storey stared at him in the dark. She did? She didn't remember that. Good thing the lighting hid her expression. Besides, how would he know?

"Oh that's right," Her mother turned back to face Storey. "She was supposed to go on that religion field trip. Like we would want you learning about other religions. We're Roman Catholics all the way."

Religion field trip? Roman Catholic? Uh oh! Who'd stolen her mom and put these fakes in her place? Storey didn't know what to say. Something major had happened. Not to her, but to her family.

"Are you two feeling all right?"

"I'm not too sure." Her mother rubbed her forehead. "In fact, I'm starting to feel slightly woozy. I think I'd better go to bed." She traipsed out of the room. Storey couldn't believe what she saw briefly in the ray of moonlight. Her mother wore a dress, like a regular dress and high heels. That so didn't happen. Where were the floor length hippy dresses and bangles that jangled with her movements?

"Where were you guys? You mentioned it earlier, but I forgot."

Her father spoke from the doorway. "At church, of course. We understood you needed to stay home and do your homework. That's always been your priority and we're so proud of you for it. Now don't stay up too late." He walked out, leaving her stunned and gasping for air.

What had just happened? If these were her parents, then they weren't in her normal world. Had she returned to her world or had she gone to a different one?

She glanced down at her drawing. Could she have done this? Could she possibly have created another dimension? Another reality? A parallel reality? She got up, still holding the stylus and sketchbook, to check the wall where the Louer had tried to come through earlier. Relief washed through her. The cracked paint was still there. Evidence she was in the right dimension.

Unless that had copied over too...

Oh God.

Please not. And if she had copied an entire world, which one was she in now?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

E
ric tried to remember the emergency instructions drilled into him during his first years of training. Like so much of his early learning, his training had been mindless rote instructions, ignored the minute the tests were over. There'd never been a conflict or a war in their immediate history and no one had considered the possibility of a fight in their future.

They'd been so wrong.

He had yet to see any Louers, and his images of war, gleaned from the archives, had all focused on screaming crowds and bloodshed everywhere, fighting and chaos erupting on every corner. This deathly silence didn't fit the image.

Making it to the ground floor, he wasted more precious minutes looking for the entrance to the basement. The steel door stood implacable in front of him. It wouldn't be automatically keyed for him and he couldn't remember the codes to get in.

Damn it.

Shocked at the swearing, even silent curses, he stepped back. Storey's bad habit was rubbing off on him. Not good.

He massaged his temples and tried several combinations in his head. As soon as the right one showed up the door should click open. Numbers flitted in and out in a steady stream as he reviewed the various codes he'd been forced to memorize throughout his life.

The massive door made a series of clicking noises and unlocked itself. Relief washed over him. He pulled the door open. With a final glance around at the deserted hallway, he entered the darkness.

***

Storey sat frozen, ever nastier possibilities filling her mind. All thoughts about returning to Eric's world fled as she realized she had to put her own reality back to rights. How? She had no frickin' idea.

Lost in thought, she didn't recognize for a long moment that her hand had stopped moving. The stylus was done. She gathered up her bag and slipped up the stairs to her room. Not wanting to attract her parent's attention she quietly shut the door and slipped into her bed. Under the covers she used her flashlight to study her drawing. She didn't quite understand what she was looking at. The picture appeared to be earth displayed as an onion with multiple layers wrapped on top of each other. Were the layers dimensions? Had she created a layer here? She'd wondered about it but...

She grabbed her school eraser and scrubbed at the center layer. It wouldn't erase. Changing tactics, she worked on a smaller mark on one of the outer layers. Again, she couldn't. Were these creations permanent?

Sick awareness settled into her gut. What had she been thinking about while drawing? So many things. Most recently her parents. Before that, wishing her mom would conform a little more and Eric, well all she'd had on her mind was how she'd hated to leave Eric's arms. After that, her thoughts were consumed with trying to find another dimension for the Louers.

She gulped. Could the power of thought, when paired with a stylus, change a person's belief system? Change their history, too? And those around them? Dear God.

It didn't make sense that she could, without training, change something so drastic, so major in life so easily. And if the changes had happened to her parents, had they also happened to other people? Did her mom still have the candle shop? Did the townsfolk still look down on them? And what about Jeff? Was he or had he ever been her boyfriend? Or had they never met?

Storey gulped. Was she still Storey? She didn't feel any different. But apparently she acted differently in this place. Homework? Caring about her schooling? Nuts. Did she even live in Bankhead anymore?

She ran to the window. The same overgrown oak tree scraped along the sill. Her familiar backyard shimmered in the moonlight. Relief washed over her. So that much was still good. More had to have changed though to have her father in her life, not to mention a change in her mother's religious beliefs. And if her mom's clothing tastes had changed, that meant the alterations were old and very deep.

The power of what she'd done scared the crap out of her. For the first time she understood Paxton's fear. And what was the chance he knew the stylus could change reality like this?

Laying the stylus down on the bed, she sat a little away from it. It had taken a long-held wish and brought her Dad home. It was her fault, she fully accepted that. Now she needed to understand how she'd done this, so she could fix it. Then she'd be more than happy to stop playing God with laws and tools she didn't understand.

Studying the stylus, she had to consider giving it back. "If you're so dangerous, you shouldn't be running around my planet loose like this."

So how did she become one of those in the know?

Then it hit her. If the pencil could change her parents' belief system, then surely it could give her more information – like an instruction manual on using the stylus and information on Eric's world. For that matter, it might be able to tell her how to defeat the Louers.

How could she get the stylus to release the information? Through a drawing? Storey grabbed a granola bar from her bag and munched. She was hesitant to draw herself; who knew if her poor rendition would create that face on her bone and tissue. She could put her name down.