Calamity Crossroads


19=Cutting Edge

"You again?" Dipper asked.

She grinned at him as he limped through the portal she'd cut. "Hey, yeah! Where's the redhead?"

"Waiting for me, I hope." Dipper stood in a hot, arid landscape, with a son blazing overhead. "Now who are you?"

"I'm me," the girl said. She was plumpish but attractive in an alien kind of way, with oddly furry arms and sharp teeth. Her own hair was red, she had a pair of light-orange horns projecting through it, and her skin was the palest Dipper had ever seen. She momentarily pushed her bangs off her other eye so she could survey him. "Been through the wringer, huh? You know, somebody's gonna owe me for this. I'm scheduled to be dead by now."

"What?"

She shrugged. "No biggie. My dimension ran on magic, and the magic got drained away. Along with everything magical. Heck, I was made from magic. Anyway, I had holed up in a place where nothing ever really changes, so I got through but couldn't leave that one spot. Then my dimension and Earth's dimension merged—"

"I don't understand any of this," Dipper said. She walked toward a building that looked as if it were made of stone, and he tagged along, his joints still stiff.

"Eh, don't let it ruin your day, Pines. We have to wait for somebody else to escort you from here. This is my place. Come in, kick back, have a drink, and tell me how you got in your mess."

The domed building felt surprisingly cool inside. Dipper looked around at a scatter of furniture, plush armchairs, a few tables, and a plush, bright-red sofa. She sat on it and patted the cushion next to her. "Settle. What are you looking at?"

"The fire on your head."

She chuckled. "That's just my flame. If I remember right, your girlfriend blew it out once. It's just something like a human pulse, nothing special, kid."

Dipper laughed louder than she had. "I'm not really a kid anymore. I mean, I'm married and all."

"You're a kid compared to me," she said. She snapped her fingers, and on the free-form coffee table not far from the sofa two slender glasses filled with a reddish-amber liquid appeared. "Try this and see if you like it. Humans usually do. What should I call you?"

"Everyone calls me Dipper," he said. The glass was cold in his hand, beaded with condensation "Um, is this alcoholic?"

"Nope," she said, deliberately popping the P sound. "You look like you're sore, and this will help. Doesn't taste like medicine, though." She held out her glass. "Cheers, Dipper."

"Cheers—uh, I don't know what to call—"

"Eh, HP will do," she said with a sharp grin.

"Cheers, HP." They clinked rims. Dipper took a cautious sip. "Mm." The drink tasted tangy, like acidic fruit juice, but sweetish, too, and silky on the tongue. He took a longer sip and felt it warming him as it went down. "Are you sure this isn't alcohol? Because it reminds me of champagne."

"Not alcoholic," HP said firmly. "So how did you get yanked out of your home dimension?"

"From what I've learned, it was an accident," he said. He briefly explained about Stan and his playing around with his brother's esoteric equipment. "The Portal was designed to open to infinite dimensions, but it broke down years back, and Stan's been working to fix it for half his life. He's left out something or—"

"Yeah, sounds like human over-complication," HP said. She pursed her lips and frowned a little in thought. "Probably something small but crucial, let me see. OK, there's probably a yellow dodecahedronal crystal. It has to be oriented so that faces, not vertices, are perpendicular to the chronotron inductors. Get that message to whoever, and if they can reset the crystal orientation a few degrees, that should sort it out." She snapped her fingers, and Dipper's and her glasses re-filled.

"I don't know if I can tell Grunkle Stan. Or that one, anyway. I'll see if maybe one of my, um, dimensional versions can, but I'll need some—whoa, I feel good!"

"Thought you would. See, this stuff heals aches and pains fast and gives you a sense of being rested. Portal device, huh? I could tell you these work better and are real simple to operate—" in her free hand, she clicked a pair of scissors—"but they gotta be created by a magic forger, and strangely enough, I'm the only one in the Multiverse. That I know of, anyway. And these aren't technological. They work by magic."

Dipper took a long, warming drink. "You said magic, uh, drained away, didn't you?"

"Yeah, thanks to the Princess. I don't hold it against her, magic had royally, hah, screwed up her whole family. Anyhow, after almost all the magic had vanished, my world got fused with, what's the name of the place, California. Turned out my world was incredibly small. But I found out that in other dimensions magic still existed, and with some help from my friends, I tapped into that stuff and stored enough magic to let me survive outside the refuge and even to make another pair of scissors."

They finished their drinks and the glasses vanished. "What happens now?" Dipper asked.

"Told you. Somebody's gonna pick you up."

She leaned on the back of the sofa and bent her knees, tucking her feet underneath her butt. Dipper started to feel self-conscious. Sort of . . . sweaty and awkward. "Are you all alone here?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm. My own little pocket dimensions, stuffed with magic I've siphoned from, you know, places that won't miss it. Home sweet home." She sighed. "But I am looking for a new place. Gotta be a special dimension, where I can find people like me. Trouble is, I'm unique."

"Must be lonely."

"Yeah. So you and your redhead—"

"We're together," he said. "Married."

HP twirled a lock of her red hair around her fingers. "Must be nice."

"It's . . . wonderful."

"Stand up and stretch a little. See how you feel."

Dipper did, automatically doing the set of warm-up stretches he did before a track meet. No twinges. "Lots better. Thanks," he said. "I think you fixed me."

HP chuckled. "Oh, I wouldn't want to do that to a nice pet like you!"

He sat down again, feeling as if he were thirteen and a pretty girl had just winked at him. "Well. Uh. It, um, did the trick. Thanks again."

"You're welcome. May I kiss you?"

"Um—I don't think I should—"

"Not you me, me you." She leaned in and put her lips on his left cheek. He caught her scent, oddly spicy and reminiscent of fresh ocean air. She put her arm around him and her hand on the back of his head.

"Ouch!"

She pulled away, grinning. "Just had to put the mark of Hekapoo on you, son! Don't worry, the hair will grow back."

Dipper rubbed the back of his head. "Why did you do that?"

"To show I like you," she said, her voice a little sad. She shrugged. "The problem with being unique is there isn't anybody to match me. Hey, I felt your love for Wendy and hers for you just then when I kissed your cheek. You're lucky, Dipper. So lucky."

"How did you—"

"Duh, I'm magic, I sense things. And I know you're feeling anxious, but don't worry. Time moves differently here. You could spend a week with me and only a few seconds would pass in the worlds outside this one."

"Uh—"

She gave him a rather melancholy smile. "Relax, it won't be long now. Few minutes. You won't have to spend a week here." She sighed. "Though I wish . . . oh, never mind."

Dipper noticed for the first time that her eyes, though alien in appearance, held deep and rather human sadness. He said, "Give me your hand for a second."

She held out her hand, He linked his pinky with hers. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"A human thing. Pinky swear, we call it. I promise you'll find a place and you'll find a special someone, and together the two of you will be unique."

"Human magic?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"Call it instinct. Are we good?"

She tossed her head, moving her bangs aside. "Um. Yeah, Pines, I think we're good."

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Never give up," he said.

Like a silent flash of lightning, green light flooded the room, startling Dipper. He jumped to his feet.

A cranky man's voice said, "Dipper Pines, move your ass." Burp! "Say goodbye to your side-piece, you piece of shit."

This time his travel agent was a guy in a lab coat who had spiky white hair, a pistol-like device that had opened a swirling green portal, and, judging by the smell of him, a serious drinking problem.

"Take it away, old man," HP said, leaning back on the sofa, stretching out her legs and crossing her ankles. "Good luck, Pines."

"I got it from here, slut. Hustle, kid!"

Dipper stepped through the portal, not without apprehension, and certainly not without a certain regret.