Several weeks passed after Comic-con. Conner had gone back to work the office, developing several ad campaigns. Mainly he worked with Volkswagen and McDonald's. Life was good.
Occasionally, though, a client would come in, his face crawling with maggots. Or a witch would fly by his office building on a broom. Some of the things Conner saw, no man should ever see. At times, he thought he was going mad. He questioned whether the events in the cemetery had ever happened or if he'd just imagined them. Conner often wanted to pick up the phone and call John to discuss what happened, to be sure he hadn't dreamed it all, but he couldn't bring himself to pick up the phone.
Finally, though, one afternoon, a call came for him. It was John. He wanted to meet.
Conner grabbed up the trench coat, loosened his tie, and told the secretary he'd be out for the rest of the day.
At Conner's insistence, they all met at Bar Marmont, a ritzy restaurant inside Chateau Marmont, a hotel modeled after a French Castle at the foot of the Hollywood Hills. The gang was all dressed something like their characters, but they'd toned it down since Comic-Con. Alicia had a tactful bit of head jewelry. Claire had on a Hermione-esque wardrobe that did not include any Hogwarts accoutrement. Reagan, Conner and John were dressed exactly as their characters again, as they wouldn't necessarily be taken for dressing up, and Gene was dressed something like a stereotypical college professor from the 1950s.
At the table, the gang sipped cappuccinos.
"The bizarre thing is that no one else seemed to notice the little buggers," said Claire. "The hideous little things were everywhere. They were going around hiding stuff, spilling drinks, shutting down people's laptops, just generally ruining people's day. Why would they do that? I saw one stab a man in the knee. He bloody stabbed him! Nasty little things. I used to like fairies!"
"I'm pretty sure I saw an actual vampire," said Reagan. "I went for my stake, but I realized I didn't have it with me. I was at the mall. I never thought I'd actually be in a position to use the thing. I grabbed some chopsticks from Panda Express but, when I turned, around he was gone. I waited for him at Hot Topic, but he never showed.
"I'm not sure you should be stabbing people with stakes," said John. "Even if it was a real vampire, you're not actually Buffy. It would just kill you."
"I'm just glad I'm not the only one seeing things," said Conner. "I was starting to question my sanity."
"I say we have these meetings weekly," said John. "Keep ourselves sane. Maybe figure out what to do about our situation."
"What can we possibly do?" said Alicia. "I have seen things that I'll never forget, crazy, disturbing, disgusting things. But we're just ordinary people. We can't do anything. We're now part of a world we don't belong in, and we can't get out. I wish we'd never gone to stupid Comic-Con."
"Whoa!" said the rest of the group at once.
"Don't say that," said John. "That's just crazy talk."
"We're part of this world now, whether we like it or not," said Claire. "Therefore, we do belong. We just have to think about it like that. We just have to find our niche. Figure out where we stand."
"We can't assume these things are out to get us, though, Reagan," said Conner.
"Yeah," said John. "No attacking vampires or anything like that."
"That's right," said Claire. "We've not yet been attacked. Maybe the supernatural has no real interest in us."
"Perhaps," said Gene, "but I suspect they might have interest if they knew…"
Gene was stopped by the music in the restaurant. It had slowed, as did the waiters. Soon all was silent, frozen. The gang rose from their chairs, astonished. They walked around the place. Everything was fixed in time; a beer being poured, the flames in the candles, everything. Gene noticed that on one patron's iPhone, CNN was streaming. It was the only thing working in regular time.
Conner threw some money on the table and the gang walked out of restaurant. The rest of the hotel was in the same state as the restaurant. They walked out onto the steep, small road that wrapped around the hotel, and then onto Sunset Blvd. Every car was stopped. Ambulance lights were frozen.
"Oh, boy," said Conner.
"Have any of you ever seen anything like this?" asked Claire, wand drawn.
"Is that wand going to do anything?" said John.
"It's comforting me," said Claire.
"I've never seen anything like this," said Conner. "This is a much bigger thing than the other stuff I've noticed. Less disturbing, but definitely bigger."
"Is it because we're all together maybe?" said Alicia.
"Possible," said Gene, "but unlikely. We are merely observers of supernatural phenomenon. We do not influence it or attract it, as far as I understand."
Conner, John and Reagan walked out into the frozen traffic.
"I'd step back from there," said Gene. "We don't know when time will return to normal, assuming that it will."
Conner, John and Reagan stepped back onto the sidewalk. A moment later and time began speeding up. Soon people were flying by them, almost too fast to see. Some were staring at them, as if they were frozen, waving their hands before their faces and laughing, curiously. Finally, time slowed again and regained normal speed.
"Temporal disturbance," said Gene. "This happens a lot."
The others look at Gene, confused.
"In Star Trek," said Gene. "It happens a lot in Star Trek."
"Come on," said Conner. "I'm getting you guys home."
The gang jumped in their various cars and followed Conner, in his XKR-S, toward Coldwater Canyon. They were heading to the valley.
As they passed La Cienega there was another temporal disturbance. They weaved through the traffic frozen all along the Sunset Strip. Time regained at Beverly Blvd. They turned and traveled up toward the valley. As they ascended the Hollywood Hills, the disturbances became worse. Soon, time would freeze and fast-forward constantly. As they approached Mulholland, the disturbances eased off a little. Conner pulled off onto a side street, as they had really messed up traffic at this point, and got out of the car. The others followed.
"I need to do something about this," said Conner. "You guys wait here."
"What are you talking about?" said John. "You're going to fix time?"
"I know one thing," said Conner. "Whatever's causing this is at the bottom of this hill. Right after we got on Coldwater here, time went crazy. It's better here. If I go back, I'll find the source."
"We must assume," said Gene, "that whatever's causing this is incredibly powerful. If we go looking for the source, you're sure to die."
"I'm in," said Claire, wielding her want again.
"I'm in too," said John, his eyes peering out under his eyebrows in a very moody, Edward sort of way.
"You know I'm in," said Reagan.
"No," said Conner. "None of you are in. I'm doing this alone. Like Gene said, whoever goes in there will probably be killed."
"You realize that this argument is pointless," said John. "Even if you win, two minutes after you get in your car and head down that hill, we're going to get in our cars and head down that hill after you."
Conner stared at the gang a moment. They were clearly determined.
"Fine," said Conner. "Let's go."
"Perhaps Gene and I should wait here," said Alicia nervously, "in case you need to be rescued."
"It would probably be more sensible if we went with them," said Gene. "In case we need rescuing."
"Good point," said Alicia.
They paired up and only took three cars this time. Reagan rode with Conner, of course, Claire rode with John, despite a mild objection, and Alicia rode with Gene.
They pulled up to a gate at Cabrillo Dr. The temporal fluctuations were constant and inconsistent. Time would freeze, sometimes for a second, sometimes for twenty seconds. Then it would speed up and freeze again. It was, at no point, true time.
Conner examined the gate. There were cameras and laser sensors everywhere. He examined the mechanism to open it.
"We can't climb over," he said, "and I can't figure a way to get this gate open. And even if I could, if time sped up again, it might crush us."
"We can climb over," said Gene. "We have to wait for time to stop. The lasers won't sense us. The cameras won't see us. We exist out of time in those moments. We shall be fine."
Conner turned to Gene, nodded, and started to climb. The rest of the gang followed. Awkwardly, Gene attempted to assist Alicia. Eventually, Reagan had to come over and help out.
Once on the grounds, getting into the house was relatively easy. Several windows and doors were open. The place was huge, a compound. They made their way to the foyer. Gene immediately went for the small pile of mail near the door.
"Ryan Seacrest," he said.
The gang exchanged curious glances.
"Really?" said Claire, astonished.
She walked over and took up the mail. His name was stamped right on the cover of the Cosmopolitan magazine.
"It is," she said. "Ryan Seacrest."
She passed the letters around for the others to see.
"So, does this mean Ryan Seacrest is some kind of evil monster from the dark recesses of Hell?" asked Reagan.
"Well isn't that just a given?" said John.
They all laughed.
"Let's not jump to any conclusions," said Conner. "Let's just find him and see what's going on."
The gang moved forward slowly, deeper into the house, not sure what or whom they might encounter. They opened this door and that, always expecting something horrible to be behind, but there never was. Eventually, they grew bolder, throwing open doors, and strolling casually. Still, no one steered too far from the group, always on the same floor, never more than two rooms apart.
In the west wing of the house, John and Claire stepped into a vast, elaborately decorated library. Claire was thrilled.
"Oh, John," she exclaimed. "I do love books."
John did not love books, but he loved that Claire was squeezing his arm just then. A moment later and Claire was climbing up the shelves, scanning through the volumes. John amused himself by making the statuettes on the fireplace talk to each other.
Eventually, the others found that they were missing and went back for them.
"What are you two doing?" said Conner. "You decide to just take a break."
"Look at this library," said Claire. "I haven't seen the likes of it since England. We should make this our secret headquarters."
"Yeah, that makes sense," said Conner. "Hey, Mr. Seacrest. I know you don't know us, but we'd like to make your library our secret headquarters. We see supernatural stuff and have no need for a headquarters, not to mention a secret one, but we still want to make this our secret headquarters."
"Well, you don't have to be wicked about it," said Claire, a bit sad.
"Sorry," said Conner. "I'm just frustrated…"
Gene tapped Conner on the shoulder.
"What is it?"
Gene pointed to the desk. Conner swung around. The large chair was turned away from them, but they could see a hand gripping the arm. Smoke rose from behind the high back. The rest of the gang gathered around Conner.
"Mr. Seacrest?" Reagan called out.
The chair swiveled around. The gang all stepped back. But it wasn't Ryan Seacrest. It was Adam Baldwin.
"Adam Baldwin?" the gang all exclaimed at once.
"Hey," said Adam Baldwin.
Smoke streamed from the cigar clamped between Adam Baldwin's teeth.
"I'm a huge fan!" said John.
Conner hit him in the chest.
"We're all big fans," said Conner. "What are you doing here?"
"I should ask you the same thing," said Adam Baldwin. "Furthermore, why aren't you affected by all this time shifting mumbo jumbo?"
"Temportal disturbances" said Gene.
Adam Baldwin stared at Gene a moment.
"Whatever."
"Why aren't you affected?" said Conner.
"Asked you first," said Adam Baldwin.
The gang all looked to each other, each hoping someone else would explain.
"We're in Ryan Seacrest's house investigating temporal disturbances," said Adam Baldwin. "This is no time to be bashful."
"We were in a cemetery," said John, "and we saw someone sell his soul to The Devil. The Devil then gave us the power to see the supernatural in the world. So here we are."
Adam Baldwin nodded.
"Did you see The Devil?" asked Claire.
Adam Baldwin just stared at Claire a moment with his steely-eyed Adam Baldwin gaze as he adjusted his cigar.
"On the set of Full Metal Jacket there was this slick salesmen type. He kept finding people when they were alone I noticed. He was buddying up to Kubrick a lot. Apparently, they were old friends. Anyway, he found me off by myself one day having a cigarette outside the barracks. He proposed a deal. He said he could make me famous if I gave up my soul at the end of my life. I punched him square in the face."
The gang's eyes all went wide. Sounds of astonishment echoed through the library.
"The Devil crumpled to the ground like a new born foal. He screamed, 'You'll pay for this!' and then he vanished. He really said that. He really said, 'You'll pay for this.' It was pathetic. I've been able to see the supernatural ever since."
The gang's jaws all hung open.
"So, just to make sure, what are you guys here for, really?" said Adam Baldwin, relighting the cigar.
"We don't exactly know," said Gene. "Conner, here, thought we should follow the temporal disturbances to their source. We had no knowledge of what we might find once we got here."
Adam Baldwin nodded again.
"Go home, kids. Leave this one to the professionals."
"Whoa, wait a second," said Conner. "Granted, it was very little work getting here. But it was kind of scary, and we really want to know what's causing this. I mean, how would you like to go through the rest of your life seeing all this weird stuff happening and not knowing why or what to do about it. We came here for a reason, and we're not leaving until we figure out what that reason is."
This didn't sound particularly convincing, even to Conner. But it worked.
"Fine," said Adam Baldwin. "You're after this."
Adam Baldwin unrolled a parchment and laid it across the table.
"This is a devil's contract, signed by one Mr. Ryan Seacrest in 2001," said Adam Baldwin.
"Let me see that," said Reagan, nudging Adam Baldwin to one side. "That is such a shame. I listen to his radio show every morning. Such a shame."
"What did he get in return for his soul?" asked Claire. "Fame and fortune?"
"Never have to sleep again," said Adam Baldwin.
"That makes sense," said Conner.
The rest of the group nodded.
"When someone's contract is about to expire they create a sort of vortex," said Adam Baldwin, supernatural energy is attracted to them. All kinds of weird stuff can happen. It's usually related in some way to the deal laid out in the contract. In this case, Seacrest messed with time, so now things are correcting themselves, creating anomalies in the supernatural plane.
"So what do we do then?" said Alicia. "Burn the contract?"
"No, you can't burn it," said Adam Baldwin. "You've got to find the loophole."
"Loophole?" said Conner.
"Yeah, there's a loophole in every contract. I guess it's one of the rules to these things. However, The Devil, tricky as he is, always hides it. It's not visible to the signee, only us, those who can see the supernatural. Here, apparently Seacrest also requested a clause, probably suggested by Satan himself."
"Soooo… The Devil was helping him?" asked Alicia.
"Sometimes when a target is hesitant, The Devil will sweeten the pot, give up some little trick or secret that will make the deal irresistible. It says here that Seacrest can't age the extra hours each night that he's awake. Sleeping rejuvenates the body. I'm guessing The Devil told him that not sleeping would age him faster, and he'd add a clause so that he wouldn't be burdened with the extra age, as it's written here. It probably put Seacrest over the edge, convinced him. Says here, the extra age, which should appear on Seacrest, would instead appear on a portrait of Seacrest, painted by The Devil himself.
"One may asuume, then, that if the painting was to be destroyed, Seacrest would regain the years he cheated, and thus the contract would be broken."
"How much time do we have?" asked Conner.
"Days? Seconds? You never know with these things," said Adam Baldwin.
"Seacrest is not going to like this," said Reagan.
"Whatever," said Adam Baldwin. "I don't have time for his nancy-boy concerns. I need to find that painting. Smart guy, where would a famous TV slash radio personality keep his most valuable possession?"
Gene thinks about it a moment.
"A TV slash radio personality you say?" said Gene. "It represents an uglier, aged version of himself? I'd say it'd be under a dust sheet, haphazardly discarded in the attic."
"Wait here," said Adam Baldwin as he headed toward the door.
"We're coming with you," said Conner.
Adam Baldwin stopped and turned around. He was huge.
"Sit down," said Adam Baldwin, firmly. "You have no idea what's going to be up there. You think The Devil's just going to let some ordinary human being go up and slash that canvas in half? I can't tell you what kind of fiends will be guarding that painting, but whatever it is, you haven't the tools nor the experience to deal with it. Wait here."
Adam Baldwin exits the room, the gang all stays in the library a moment, two moments, three moments – at once they all walked out after Adam Baldwin.
"The air was thick with dust," said John, as the gang stepped into attic.
"Shut up," said Reagan.
"Charming," said Claire.
"What are you his girlfriend now?" said Reagan.
"No!" Claire exclaimed defensively.
John held back after that. The "No!" sounded all too desperate to him. Maybe he had a chance. He smiled to himself. Progress.
Eventually the gang caught up with Adam Baldwin.
"I thought I told you kids to stay put!" Adam Baldwin shouted.
"Hey, you guys," said John. "John Casey just yelled at us!"
"No, no, guys," said Reagan. "Jayne Cobb just yelled at us!"
"Yeah," they all said at intervals.
Adam Baldwin rolled his eyes.
"Stop!" said Adam Baldwin.
Echoing through the attic rang the sound of footsteps. They were slow, unconcerned with the gang's presence. They turned toward the sound. Out of the darkness stepped a tall, thin man in a black suit and tie. He held a cane in one hand; a small pouch was tied to his belt.
Adam Baldwin dug into his pockets and drew out a set of WWII era goggles.
"What are those for?" said Conner.
"Hide your eyes!" Adam Baldwin shouted.
"What? Why?" said Conner, now a little nervous.
"It's The Sandman."
"What's he going to do?" said Claire. "Put us to sleep?"
"Some do," said Adam Baldwin. "The sand this one carries plucks your eyes out. Then he feeds them to his children in his iron nest on the moon."
"What?" said Claire.
"Just cover your eyes," said Adam Baldwin.
Everyone covered their eyes.
The Sandman walked slowly around the gang.
"Many children have shielded themselves from my sand," he said in a measured, deliberate tone. "Not one has managed to keep their eyes."
Gene peered around the room between scissored fingers. An hourglass. A sack of marbles. He slipped behind some old furniture and went to work.
"I can smell your fear," said The Sandman.
Adam Baldwin went to attack, but the Sandman floored him with one stroke of his cane. He bent down a moment to tear the goggles from Adam Baldwin's eyes, and rose up again.
"You will lose your eyes last," he said. "You may watch your friends writhe in pain first."
He turned to Alicia.
"You are the weakest," said the Sandman. "I will take pity on you. You shall lose your eyes first."
Gene snuck up behind him and plucked the pouch from his belt. He held out the other pouch as if it had been the one plucked. The sandman turned and casually took up the fake pouch.
"Thank you," said The Sandman. "I was just reaching for that."
He took a pinch and threw it at Alicia. A moment passed. Another moment. Alicia removed her hands. Nothing. Her eyes were fine. The sandman looked curiously at the girl. Then at the bag. Then at Gene. Gene dashed a handful of sand into The Sandman's eyes. The Sandman shrieked in pain, his hand shot up to his face, but it was too late. As if they had nothing at all holding them in place, The Sandman's eyes fell from their sockets to the ground.
The girls all screamed.
Adam Baldwin shook off the blow from the cane, stood, picked The Sandman up, and threw him out the window.
From the attic, the gang could see The Sandman, still moving. He finally crawled to his feet and stumbled away.
The gang all took a breath.
"Now," said Adam Baldwin. "Where's that painting."
"What's going on here?" shouted a voice from the attic door.
The gang looked over. It was Ryan Seacrest.
"What are you all doing in my house?" he continued.
"Don't mind us," said Adam Baldwin. "We're just looking for a painting."
Ryan Seacrest's eyes widened.
"Painting? What Painting."
"Here it is," cried Gene, as he threw off a dust cover.
"Um…" Ryan Seacrest hesitated. "Listen, uh, what exactly do you want with that painting?"
"We're going to save your soul, kid," said Adam Baldwin.
"Well, uh, how do you propose to do that exactly?"
"I'm going to stick this knife in it."
Adam Baldwin drew a huge Bowie knife from his belt. Ryan Seacrest jumped in front of Adam Baldwin.
"Listen, pal," said Ryan Seacrest. "I don't know you, but I'm begging you. Don't destroy that painting. I'll pay you. I'll do anything you want. I'm famous."
Adam Baldwin just rolled his eyes.
"Someone get the hair and teeth out of my way."
"Why do you want to destroy it, anyway?" said Ryan. "What's it got to do with you?"
"You haven't noticed the time fluctuations? Your contract is about to expire. You're headed to Hell, kid. Now step out of the way."
"Better to leave a good-looking corpse, I say," said Ryan Seacrest.
The sound of a tear came from over toward the painting. They turned. There stood John, a Swiss Army Knife in his hand.
"McGyver fan gave it to me," said John.
The painting was slashed through, from one corner to the other.
"No!" screamed Ryan Seacrest.
He fell to his knees. The gang watched as he crawled across the floor to an old mirror. He dusted it off and slowly took his hand from his face.
"No!" he screamed again. "What have you done? I'm hideous! Hideous!"
The gang walked over, afraid of what they would see, and gazed upon the face of Ryan Seacrest.
"He looks exactly the same," said Claire.
As the gang left the house, Ryan Seacrest's screams could still be heard, muted only a little by the walls of the attic. The temporal disturbances had stopped. They headed home. They had to get up early after all. It was a school night.
The next day there seemed to be a lull in supernatural activity. It was just another typical school day. John and Gene sat alone at lunch, Claire and Alicia ate in the school library with the other bookworms, and Reagan took her seat at "the cool kids'" table.
After school, Reagan went to cheerleading practice, Claire and Alicia went to work at the school newspaper, and John and Gene went to Sci-fi club. Today they were all going to watch Attack of the Clones. It was the third day of a Star Wars marathon, ending with Return of the Jedi. On alternating days they would watch, and then discuss.
They we well engrossed in their film when, toward the end, Princess Amidala's ship, on Tatooine, was blasted, and Amidala fell through the screen into the classroom.
John and Gene shot glances at each other, eyes wide, then back at Amidala. She jumped to her feet, drew her phaser and swung about, looking for the enemy. There were just students, and they didn't seem to notice her.
"Where am I?" she asked.
