TW: Throwing up & brief political discussion (not at the same time)
The dream was weird. I was floating in some type of dark, swirling mist; not really sure which end was up, but it didn't really seem to matter. Someone was calling my Name. It wasn't my name, but rather my Name. Though I'd never heard it once in my life, let alone known it before now, I knew exactly what it was; deep, real and primal. I was being pulled toward the sound, not really wanting to go, but being drawn in like a magnet. There was a sense of a steady increase in speed, but there weren't any landmarks to compare to, so I couldn't be certain. I tried to struggle, but there was nothing to struggle against.
Suddenly I ran smack into something firm and slightly yielding. At once everything lost its light, floatiness, and felt very real and solid. I bounced right off of whatever I'd hit with a slight "Omph!". I spun and ricocheted off a brick wall, scrapping my hand and dropping to one knee on what felt like cold concrete. I still didn't know which end was up, but now it very much seemed to matter. Everything was spinning and I could hardly open my eyes.
"Hells bells," a startled male voice said. "Are you alright?"
I wasn't. I threw up violently in a direction that I sincerely hoped was down and not pointed at the speaker.
I felt two hands on my shoulders and smelled warm leather. The hands were trying to lift me into what I assumed was a standing position. I helped as best I could, finding the wall I'd bounced off of and leaning on it, slowly getting a sense of up and down, though everything was still spinning and I my eyes refused to open.
"Need me to call you a cab?" the voice asked gently.
I tried to laugh, but it turned into another heave. "No," I rasped. "No cab would take me home. I live in the middle of the woods."
"Oh, you're from out of town then. Are you staying at a hotel? With friends?"
"What? No. I was at home, asleep in bed."
Silence for a moment. "Then how did you end up here on the sidewalk at 1:30 in the morning?"
I pressed a hand to my forehead and groaned, sliding back down to sit on the ground with my back against wall; only vaguely hoping I wasn't sitting in my own puddle of puke, but not really caring either way. "I don't know," I mumbled. "Give me a moment to get my bearings." I took a deep breath of the cold night air and started my simple grounding exercise: breathing in gold-white energy from deep within the earth and holding it in the center of my being. Breathing out a beam of the same white-gold light up towards the sky. Breathe in white-gold light from the sky; hold it. Breathe out the light back to the earth.
"Whoa! What are you doing?"
"Grounding," I said, eyes still closed, repeating the breath series. I had to admit, I was feeling the grounding effects much more strongly than ever before. The white-gold light I was imagining actually felt like it was soaking into my being like a sponge takes on water. It felt so lovely and right.
"You're drawing in a lot of power. You're a practioner then?"
"Of what?" Deep breath in.
"Magic."
"Lol! No. God, I haven't done spellwork in years! Any 'magic' I ever do now is passive stuff. I'm just breathing energy around to get this infernal spinning to stop." And it was indeed working. The world was settling. The awful nausea was abating.
At last I felt safe opening my eyes and finally looked over at the person I'd been speaking with. He was a very tall, lean man, with a five o'clock shadow. His dark hair was longish with a slight wave to it. His equally dark eyes that never met mine were weary, but kind and attentive. He had that type of strong, square jaw that ladies loved to swoon over. He was wearing a black leather duster over a shapeless sweatshirt and jeans. Well-broken in sneakers were on his feet and he was holding, I kid you not, I long wooden staff with runes carved into it.
"You're a magic-user?" I asked for lack of anything else to say.
"Yes, a wizard." He said it rather casually, like it was as ordinary as a carpenter or businessman.
"Did you call me here?"
"What? No. I was rounding the corner and you barreled right into me."
I rubbed my forehead again. "Someone called my here." I mused quietly. "They were calling my Name. Like my 'real' Name. It was so weird."
"Who."
"I don't know. I kind of had a sense that I didn't want to go, but I didn't have a choice."
"You were summoned then?"
"I mean, I guess. It's not really something that happens too often." I looked around and suddenly realized we were on a residential street of some urban area. "Where is this?"
"Chicago."
"Illinois? Jesus! How the hell did I end up here?" Then, "Why the hell did I end up here?"
"Where did you come from?"
"Upstate New York. Like near the Adirondacks."
His brows knit together. "Not the Nevernever then?"
"The what?"
"The…spirit realm." He said it as though looking for a quick and easy explanation.
"Oh. No. Regular old boring Earth." I looked down at my hands; only now noticing the scrape I was certain I'd sustained against the brick wall wasn't there at all. There was a small amount of drying blood on the sleeve of my pajamas. What the hell?
"Did you see a scrape on my hand?" I asked quietly.
"No, why."
"I could have sworn I peeled off a fair amount of skin on that wall. Huh."
I patted down my body. "I have hands and a body. I'm not dreaming. This is really real then?"
"Very real, I'm afraid."
My brows knit together this time. "How am I going to get home?"
"We'll figure that out in a bit. We should probably get you off the street first. You're not really dressed for this weather. Then we'll figure out who was trying to summon you and why you got dropped off here."
"Sounds good," I said, hoisting myself up to stand. He held out his hand to help and I took it. From the skin-to-skin contact, I got a sudden, brief awareness of intense power and energy emanating from the man. There were light or dark energies, both in ample quantities. Not necessarily good or bad; just incredible power. In some places they swirled and mixed, in others they were clearly separate. It was over nearly as quickly as it came and I wobbled, almost collapsing to the ground again. He steadied me gently, and given what I'd just felt, my body tensed involuntary. He instantly pulled his hands away, a big man cognizant of that fact that women might be afraid of him.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I can still call that cab…"
"No, no. It's fine," I replied shaking my head to clear it. "I just got a deep swig of whatever insane energies you're packing. Where're we going?" and I glanced around as casually as I could.
"My place is just down this way," and he nodded down the street, eyeing me warily.
"Thanks," I said, starting in that direction, making him catch up to take the lead. "I should probably call my husband to tell him I'm not home right now." I said with a little laugh, trying to clear the awkwardness in the air. "That's going to be a weird phone call! He's going to think I'm still in bed." I couldn't help but giggle at the utter absurdity of all this. I plucked at my now-dirty pajamas. "Might need something else to wear at some point too. And shoes."
The man had apparently gathered his senses by now and stopped walking. I followed suit.
"Wait," he said firmly, turning to me. "I just watched you draw in a bunch of power and absorb it like you'd been doing it for years, even though you say you're not a practioner of magic; and when I touch you, I feel nothing; but you sense my power. What's going on?"
"I've got really weird shields," I mumbled. "In all honesty, this is all new to me. I've never done that 'drawing in power' thing before; or, at least not like that. I've never felt a veritable hurricane of power from just taking someone's hand. I've never been 'summoned' to Chicago in the middle of the night five – well, I guess four days before Christmas. I know nothing about what's going on."
He looked at me a bit longer, still never truly meeting my eyes. Then something in him softened and he turned to continue walking. "What's your name?" he asked. "Your regular name, I mean; not the one that summoned you here."
"Gwen," I said.
"Gwen?"
"Well, Gwendolyn actually, but Gwen is fine."
I thought I detected a slight hesitation in his step for a moment, but it passed.
"I'm Harry," he replied.
"Nice to meet you, Harry."
"Likewise."
By this point we were nearing a certain building: an old white, two-and-a-half story house not terribly unlike the others along the street and I stopped in my tracks.
"What?" he asked, stopping to look at me.
"You live there?" I asked, pointing.
"Well, in the basement, but yes."
"Jesus H. Christ, you have it warded up to high heaven!"
"You can see the wards?"
"Well, kind of. I mean…" I pressed my lips, trying to figure out how to explain. "…There isn't anything to see, I guess. The building seems to have a type of glow maybe, and there's kind of a subtle 'buzzing' that isn't really a sound. It's more of a general sense." I thought for a moment. "You know that scene in Sneakers when Robert Redford says, 'The whole building says "Go away"'? That's I guess what I'm getting."
"You've seen Sneakers?" he asked with a quick laugh.
"Yeah, great movie."
"I mean, it is," he agreed, still sounding mildly surprised; then he cleared his throat and said, "So anyway, yes, I have the building warded." A bit self-consciously, he continued. "I'm a bit of a target in the supernatural world and I've had to fight off a few nasty things over the years."
"Oh," was all I could think to say and we continued forward. He walked around to the side of the building to a stairwell that led down to a heavy metal door with a fair amount of dents and dings. Here the wards were even stronger and I stopped again in surprise.
This time he continued ahead and made a slight waving motion of his hand before working a key into the lock. He shouldered open the door and it grated and groaned in protest.
"You can come on down," he said, dropping off his staff out of sight and making another gesture into the apartment. He looked expectantly up the short stairwell at me when I didn't immediately follow.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I asked. I could tell he'd opened a path through the wards, but there was a lot of energy in those wards and I wasn't at all comfortable coming any closer.
"It's fine," he assured me; amusement in his tone.
Cautiously, I took a step or two down the concrete steps. The buzzing got louder and more ominous. "I feel like I'm going to get zapped."
"I'm holding the wards back, you're fine."
I made a nervous sound, but skittered down the steps and through the door as quickly as I could. Happily, I did not get fried to a crisp.
The change on the other side of the doorway was immediate and profound. It was like stepping into a sound booth. The buzzing was gone. The subtle energy pushing outward disappeared. The "go away" sensations were replaced with warmth and comfort…and a distinct scent.
"You have a puppy!" I squealed, forgetting my misgivings of just a moment ago. I looked around the dimly lit room and saw on the floor of what seemed to serve as the apartment's kitchen, a shaggy, grey mound unfolding itself into a 200-ish pound animal.
"Well, he's a dog," Harry corrected. "His name is Mouse."
"All dogs are puppies," I explained, grinning as the massive beast lumbered his way over, wagging his tail in greeting. I crouched down, holding out my hand. After just a brief sniff, the dog lit up like I was some long-lost friend, his mouth opened into a huge doggie grin and he bounced around me, rubbing against me and nearly whining with pleasure and joy.
"Well now," Harry said, scratching his head. "I mean he's generally pretty friendly, but I've never seen him that friendly before."
"Oh, I just love puppies!" I said with a laugh, plopping fully onto the floor now, happily allowing myself to be mauled by Mouse's enthusiastic greeting. "You're such a good boy!" And my sunk my fingers into the thicker fur around his neck. His fur was sleek and incredibly soft; not the least bit knotted. I scratched his chest, his ears, his back. Any part of his body that was in front of me at any given moment got good, thorough scratches. We were both loving every moment of it.
Harry cleared his throat and said with mock annoyance, "I hate to break you two up, but Mouse hasn't been out all day and really needs a walk," and he grabbed a thick leash. Mouse stopped at once and looked up with interest. Harry then gestured vaguely over to an end table near a fireplace where a low fire was going. There was a black rotary phone on the end table. "You can make your call while I take him out."
"Yes, yes, of course," I said, reluctantly untangling myself from the dog. I buried my face in his scruff one more time before standing. "See you in a few," I said, and I walked over to the phone while Harry took Mouse outside.
I sat carefully on the edge of the couch next to the phone, not wanting to sully anything with my rather filthy clothes, and took up the heavy receiver. "Quaint," I muttered as I started dialing my husband's number. After two rings I go a message saying that number was not in service. Odd. I tried again; same thing. I tried my number. Same message. Maybe I was just too tired to use a rotary phone correctly. I tried a number for work and immediately it picked up, "In-patient, this is Rebecca."
Relieved, I said, "Hey Becky, it's Gwen from evening shift, I'm just checking to make sure this phone works."
"Who?"
"Gwen…from work. I was there two nights ago, gave you report? Our patient in room 12 was acting up?"
"There's no Gwen that works here. Are you looking for a patient? There're no patient calls after 10:00."
"What? No, it's…never mind," and I hung up, confused.
There was a feline chirp from above. Startled, I looked up to see a huge grey cat leap from the top of a nearby bookshelf to the couch next to me. He had a stumpy tail and was easily 25 to 30 pounds; not fat, just that big. He was ridiculously friendly however and rubbed his head enthusiastically against my hand, flopped onto his side and offered his belly for pets. Knowing it was almost certainly a trap, I gingerly rubbed his belly anyway. The cat stretched luxuriously for a moment, purring loudly before gently curling around my hand, chomping delicately, and giving my hand the most cursory of bunny kicks. I laughed and kept my hand in place, rubbing it back and forth slightly, eliciting a slightly stronger, more playful response.
"Such a good puss-puss," I crooned.
Harry shoved open the door again and came in. He released Mouse from his lead, and hung it up next to the door.
The grey dog trotted over to the couch where I was sitting and plopped down at my feet, pressing against my leg. Offended by Mouse's presence, the cat released my hand and leapt lightly to the back of the couch to settle down and purr by my ear.
"Okaaaay," Harry said, looking at his animals gathered around me as I smiled sheepishly. Hanging his coat on a hook next to an old popcorn tin where his staff, a couple of canes and a ratty umbrella sat, he said, "The cat is Mister by the way. Any luck getting ahold of your husband?" And he went about putting pet food in a couple bowls on the kitchen floor. Mouse merely looked intrigued, but didn't move. Mister, on the other hand, tight-roped his way across the top of the couch before hopping to the ground and sauntering over to his bowl to eat.
"Go on," I whispered to Mouse. "I'm not going anywhere." Reluctantly the dog wandered in the direction of his bowl and started eating. To Harry I said, "No. I did get through at work though, but Becky didn't recognize me." I shook my head, rather confused.
"What business is open that this time of night?" Harry asked, surprised.
"Hospitals. I'm a nurse."
"Ah. Well, okay then, you can crash here for the night if you want to, unless you know someone in the area."
"No, I don't know anyone in Chicago. I've got friends in Michigan, but that's a bit far away too."
"Yes, that would be. Okay, so if you're staying the night, I can change the sheets on my bed…"
"Oh no, please," I interjected. "In all honesty the couch will be fine." When he started to protest, I said, "No offense, but you're tall af. This couch is nice, but you'd be all crunched up. I however, can curl up in any old corner and be comfy. There's blankets and pillows aplenty." Indeed, the couch and two cozy chairs were all draped with at least one or two blankets, a quilt or afghan. Soft, mismatched decorative pillows filled the corners of the couch and the back of one of the chairs. "Really, I'll be fine."
"Okay," he said reluctantly, rubbing the back of his head. "Umm, I can find you some clothes to change into if you like. There's a young lady I'm mentoring and she keeps some clothes here. I think she accidently tossed a pair of shorts in my laundry last week and I haven't managed to get them back to her yet…" he trailed off, deep in thought, and wandered into the bedroom to rummage around. After a minute or two, he returned with a black and blue checked bathrobe, and an old black tee shirt with the word "Bazinga!" in yellow, both of which were clearly his. He also handed me a pair of black girls jogging shorts. Though still a bit big for me, they had a drawstring and should be able to cinch in enough.
"The bathroom is through that door," he said, nodding. Continuing, he said, "I'm sorry, but I haven't eaten all day, I'm going to make a ham sandwich, can I get you something?"
At first I was going to decline, I wasn't at all hungry; but thought better of it. A lot of people are uncomfortable eating in front of others, especially guests, and most especially in front of perfect strangers. "Sure," I said. "I'll take a peanut butter sandwich if you've got that,"
"Yup," he said, opening a cupboard and grabbing a jar of Skippy. "No jelly?"
"No please," I replied, grimacing. "Too many bad memories from kindergarten."
"Fair enough," he said with a laugh. "Wanna Coke?"
"Water'll be fine," I said. "Too much caffeine."
"I have herbal tea if you'd prefer…?"
I agreed to that gratefully; the chill both inside and out was starting to get to me. As I got up to walk towards the bathroom, I noticed Harry tossing a couple pieces of wood into a small wood stove in the corner of the kitchenette and set a kettle to boil.
"Kinda low-tech," I commented.
"Wizards and technology don't get along well," was his simple reply.
I shrugged and ducked into the tiny bathroom.
I was surprised to find there was no mirror over the sink. There was also no lightbulb in the ceiling fixture, just a big candle burning on the back of the toilet. In fact the whole place was only lit by candles. Beggars can't be choosers. I changed my clothes, cleaned my hands and face with water that never got warm, and rinsed my mouth to clean out the leftover taste of vomit.
I found a small compact mirror with his shaving supplies on the sink and ran my fingers through my hair so I didn't look so much like a female Albert Einstein. It was only then that I noticed that I wasn't wearing my glasses. I looked around in surprise. I could see just fine and had been able to this whole time. Huh.
I went about getting dressed. The robe was hopelessly huge, but I pulled up the middle and tied it tightly with the sash like one would do with a kimono. I had to roll up the sleeves four or five times and the whole get-up looked utterly comical, but again, beggars can't be choosers; at least I was covered.
I emerged and parked myself back on the couch, bundling myself in a blanket I pulled off the back. Harry didn't seem at all offended and nodded at the sandwich and steaming cup of tea sitting on the coffee table. I thanked him and took the hot cup in my hands.
Harry sat in the chair opposite the couch. He'd already finished his sandwich and was sipping his coke. Once I was settled, he returned to staring contemplatively into the fire. He had tossed more wood on, and it was warm and popping merrily.
"So," he started, conversationally. "You said you used to do spellwork?"
"Well, yeah. But it was like ten or fifteen years ago when I was still studying Wicca and witchcraft, and it was nothing close to what's happened tonight. For instance, I healed a broken toe once in something like three days, but that involved working with it two or three times a day. I've never healed a scraped hand in seconds or cured my need for glasses before. The last major 'working' I did was cleansing the energy from a piece of furniture a friend had given to me. She was surprised when she saw it again, saying it didn't feel like 'her' desk anymore. She asked me to teach her how I'd done it," I finished with a laugh.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"Why did you stop?"
I gave a half shrug. "Just outgrew it, I guess. Didn't need anything too formal. Breath and intent work just fine."
Harry sat quietly and took another nip from the coke bottle. "And no one from the White Counsel ever approached you? No Wardens?"
"Who and what? No. Like I said, I've never had any major talent. Just moving thoughts and breath around. Nothing on any level like what you apparently can do. The wards around my house are just enough to keep malevolent energies out and are completely passive. They degrade quickly if I'm gone for a few days."
Harry continued to contemplate the fireplace. "Can you change the color of the fire?" he asked.
"Maybe," I replied, staring at the flames and imagining them green. A moment later the fire shifted from a cheery orange-yellow to emerald green. "Well, that's cool," I said with a smile, and the fire returned to its usual color.
"And you've never done anything like that before?"
"Nope, and I've stared at a lot of fires."
"And none of this bothers you?"
"Well, no. I kind of maintain a malleable hold on reality. I don't demand that it conform to my expectations. I tend to roll with 'weirdness'."
"Before today, what's the weirdest thing you ever encountered?"
"Oh gosh, of this ilk? I donno. I guess when my wedding ring disappeared just a week or so after I got married. It reappeared a month later in the pocket of a hoodie I'm pretty sure I hadn't been wearing the day I lost it. I still believe the fairies took it as a prank and gave it back only when I husband and I started making serious plans to get it replaced."
"You have dealings with fairies?" and this time he looked at me.
"Not directly. I've never seen one or anything, but I mean, they're real right? They do shit like that, right?"
"Well, yes, but usually not without a good reason. Is that the ring?" he asked, nodding at my left hand.
"Yeah."
"Can I see it?"
"It was a few years ago," I warned as I twisted it off my finger to give to him. "There likely won't be a fey signature on it anymore."
"Stars and stones, it's heavy!"
"Solid silver and gold," I said proudly. "I didn't want any base metal in our wedding rings. Could be currency in a societal collapse and all." That last bit was a joke that he apparently ignored.
"Well, it's not fey gold," he said, handing it back to me. "With pure metals like that, it'd make a great magical focus for you, though I don't detect any magic running through it. You're sure you have no connections with the fey?"
"Well, a friend once said that my property is on a boundary between Seelie and Unseelie fey. The house itself is on neutral territory. She said my purpose on the land was to hold the balance. That does seem to be a common theme in my life, come to think of. That same friend claimed that I was the mortal incarnation of the Princess of the Kingdom of Apples, which I thought was charming; but she played a lot of table-top RPG's and kind of gives that sort of thing more merit than it likely deserves."
"Hmmm," he said, frowning. "How much of that do you believe?"
I shrugged. "I'm willing to give anything a think. I don't not believe it; but I lean more in the direction of it being the results of an active imagination. I assure you that my parents are plain old vanilla humans and I'm clearly the kid of them both. I'm not a changeling, halfling or anything like that; if you were going in that direction. Iron doesn't bother me, or holy objects, or anything like that."
Harry sank into thought again and then said, "Well, let's try a different approach. Don't speak it, but the Name used to summon you here. What language was it in?"
"Oh, I don't know," I said with a shiver. "It was just a series of syllables…well I guess any word is a 'series of syllables'. It was no language that I'm familiar with. It was definitely my Name though," absently I hummed the cadence of it. It really was a pretty Name, whatever it was.
"And you'd never heard it before?"
"No."
Again Harry sat back to think. "Who could know someone else's True Name without even them knowing it?" After more silent contemplation, Harry looked at me seriously, "Well, I guess we have another way to find clues: Have you ever heard of a Soul Gaze?"
"No," for some reason I shuddered.
"It happens when a practioner of magic looks into someone else's eyes. For a moment the two people see into each other's souls. Sees who the other person truly is. It might give us a clue about all this."
"That sounds rather…intimate," I said cautiously, remembering the brief flash of power I'd felt from him earlier.
"I won't lie, it is; but I feel like we're missing something obvious. You're safe from being snatched away again while you're here in the apartment, but you'd be fair game once you're back out there. Whoever tried to summon you likely doesn't have good intent. I have no idea why you got dropped off here, but I suspect this wasn't where you were supposed to end up. The summoner is almost certainly going to try again. A direct look might give us the insight we need."
"You think I might have some fey aspect or something after all?"
"It's possible. It may be something else. You clearly have a great deal of magical talent even though you've seemed to have only used it casually before now."
I sat quiet for a moment before asking hesitantly, "Can anything…interact with you during a Soul Gaze?"
"No. Well, almost always no."
"Well okay, here's the thing: you know those 'weird shields' I mentioned earlier? I have a lot of them. Guardians, protections, whatever. I just…I'm afraid they might be twitchy if someone came gazing into my soul. There's apparently…something…powerful in there that I've only started to become consciously aware of like a year-ish ago. I don't want something to get triggered and either you get hurt or this thing to wake up before I'm ready for it."
Harry blinked. "That's…kind of a lot to unpack. Why didn't you mention this sooner?"
"It…didn't seem important at the time. It's honestly never been an issue before, just a personal…project. Some weird karma I'm working through this lifetime."
"Okay," Harry said tiredly, rubbing his eyes. "Any thoughts or guesses as to what this 'hidden power' may be?"
"It's kind of embarrassing," I said, fiddling with my cup of tea.
"I promise that I won't judge," and he gave me his full attention; his face serious.
I sighed and looked away. "Have you ever heard of devas?"
"Sure. Hindu mythology. They're gods, more or less. I think the words means something like, 'being of light'?"
"I think I might be a deva," I said very quietly. "Or something of that ilk," I added quickly.
Harry was quiet for a moment, then he looked down at Mouse, who had returned to sit at my feet, and comprehension spread across his face. "Oh! That's why Mouse is all over you!" He laughed and looked back up at me. "Mouse is a Tibetan temple dog. His breed aren't just plain dogs who protect monks and the places they live. Mouse is a powerful, preceptive magical being all wrapped up in an adorable doggy package. Of course he'd form an instant bond with you if what you're saying it true!"
In response, Mouse's tongue lolled out of his mouth and he looked lovingly up at me, thumping his tail on the ground.
I scratched behind his ears, feeling numb.
Harry sat back in his chair again, "Why do you find the prospect of being something other than, or more than human troubling?"
"Well, that whole 'with great power comes great responsibility thing'," I said. "Plus, it smacks on being blatantly egotistical: 'Ooo, look at me! I'm some divine being and shit!'"
"It's not egotistical if it's true," Harry said with unexpected gentleness. "I can assure you, there's nothing egotistical about me saying that I'm a wizard, because I am a wizard. Though," he added with a wolfish grin, "I will admit, I am in the phonebook under "Wizards'."
"You are?!" I laughed.
"Scout's honor," and he held up his fingers in the Boy Scout salute. "The only one in there."
"Ha! And what services to you offer as a wizard-in-the-phonebook?"
He smiled, "I'm a private investigator. I find things. Though I make it clear that I don't do curses or love potions."
"That…is actually a pretty cool use of magical abilities," I mused. "Well then, why don't you just use your finding magic to find who pulled me from my bed in the middle of the night?"
Harry shook his head, "I'd need something of theirs to find them. We need the beginning, not the end," and he nodded at me.
"Ahh,"
"I think we might be onto something with this 'devic' thing," Harry said. "Apart from my dog falling in love with you…and apparently my cat," because right then Mister returned and nonchalantly parked himself again on the back of the couch near my ear. "What makes you think you're a deva, or something thereabouts?"
"Well, I mean, I'm good with animals," I said, leaning back to scratch Mister's ears. He purred loudly and rubbed his cheek on the back of the couch. "And babies. Babies typically love me too.
"Umm, I was never jealous of my brothers – I'm two years older than them. I actually felt like their protector. I've always had a strong sense of fairness and seeing both sides of an issue. I've never felt alone. Moving to adulthood…" I thought for a moment. "I've had multiple people who've touched my aura say there's some strong power inside me that's 'sleeping'. They've always seemed to tread lightly around it. I've also come across people who've mentioned my shields and protections. None of which I'm consciously aware of, by the way."
"Go on,"
"I'm not easily rattled by typically stressful situations; and I've been in some doozies too. I either didn't even realize at the time that it was a big deal, or just knew I had to keep my head down and bowl through. My level of chill affects others too. Almost always the tension in a room goes down when I arrive. I'm usually everyone's favorite co-work for that reason."
"Well, these are all characteristics of a strong, good, resilient character, not really anything particularly not-human."
I could tell he was simply prompting me for more, not really criticizing what I was saying.
I told him about my love for the history and culture of India, of my Guru, and how my spiritual views being aligned more with the East, despite growing up in a Baptist church and being a "good little Christian" as a young person.
"Then, there was this Akashic Record reading I did like four-ish years ago," I continued. "The lady said that lifetime after lifetime I'd been a healer, a good one; and usually one persecuted for my skills, often because I was operating outside the expected societal framework. All the way back to Atlantis, if you believe in that sort of thing. She mentioned that in one lifetime I was a tribal healer on some small Pacific island who used reeds to perform rather complicated procedures, even simple surgeries. At the end of the reading, she saw a crown of those reeds on my head. It kind of felt like a passing of the mantle, an acknowledgement of who and what I was. Yeah, that was pretty cool."
I thought for a moment, because there was something else. Then, "Oh! Duh. Okay this one is going to need a lot of context, so bear with me here." I mentioned the whole, "What's your name, Miss," phrase that had run through my head for literally years, and the eventual response of "Tayoka". I then gave as brief a summary of the whole alien society I had created when I was a kid, that I continue to develop to this day. Who the "good" guys and "bad" guys were. The sole protector called the "Grand Chief" – who has been granted great power by the gods, and who, as a consequence, must live alone, apart from their people. I explained that the Tayoka was a child born every 100 years to receive the whole of the aged Grand Chief's powers for the cycle to start again in another hundred years.
Harry asked a couple clarifying questions here and there, but for the most part he just listened attentively.
"So then," I said, bringing things back around to the topic. "Within the past few months – it's definitely been less than a year – I had this fictious conversation in something like a tavern or barroom and the bartender had asked that question, 'What's your name, Miss'; and I laughed and mentioned how that question had been running through my head for a while and that it was silly because the answer was always, 'Tayoka'. And so of course, in this fictious conversation I explained who the Tayoka was and what they did, and I laughed saying, 'Of course, I'm not the Tayoka!'" And everyone in the room stopped and looked at me. I started to get nervous and though this whole conversation had been solely in my head, a very real insight dawned on me and I was all, 'Well, fuck'.
"I don't know," I said, realizing now that it all came across as rather silly and disjointed when actually put into words. "I guess it doesn't really make a lot of sense, but at the time I suddenly realized that I was, deep down, some type of protector. Like a very powerful protector who was only now coming to understand that – hence the 'Tayoka' bit. I'm not a full Grand Chief…yet."
When I looked up, Harry was just staring at me. "Yes, okay," he said finally. "That all jives. So, let's roll with this. Let's say that you're some incarnated mystical heal-protector-deva who's been sheltered for most of her life by guardians and shields; and just when you start to realize who and what you are, someone 'finds' you and summons you away from your home. In theory to use that power for something nefarious."
"Sounds about right," I mumbled.
"So now, why?"
"And so now, why?" I repeated, quietly.
Harry sighed. "There's a couple more places I can check, but if it's okay with you, I would still like to try that Soul Gaze."
"Oh, okay," I said, feeling a little better about it now. "How does it work?"
"We really just look into each other's eyes and wait."
"Okay then." That must have been why his gaze had always shifted when I looked at him. This time, though, he didn't look away and we locked eyes. Meeting someone's gaze is an intimate act. Even meeting the eyes of a stranger, you make an instant connection. You smile and nod, they do the same and you move on; but for a brief moment you saw and were seen.
Of course, I was curious as to what Harry would see, but I was just as curious as to what I'd find in his soul. That immense power I had felt earlier came back to my thoughts and I expected something grand and potentially even a little overwhelming to happen…
…But nothing did.
Meeting his dark eyes, there was a brief feeling as though a rack focus in film had a physical sensation; but then that feeling passed and I blinked my eyes.
After a moment, Harry did too.
"Ummm, it didn't work?" I asked.
"No, it didn't," he said, thoroughly confused.
"Shields?" I asked, just now sipping my tea. It was peppermint and just the right temperature for drinking. I then looked down at my uneaten sandwich. Mouse looked up at me longingly and I broke off a small piece for him. Harry didn't notice, too deep in thought.
"It's possible," he mused. "It seems like I would have felt that. The Soul Gaze did start, but then it just stopped."
I nodded, taking a bite from the sandwich as though I knew exactly what he was talking about. For a plain peanut butter sandwich, it was actually quite tasty. Maybe I was hungrier than I thought. "Like I said: twitchy guardians." It wasn't quite an "I told you so".
I chewed thoughtfully on my sandwich. I barely knew how a Soul Gaze worked or what one could expect from it, but as far as I could tell, it was just an exchange of energy. "Physical contact might work, but…" after some thought, I shot it down. "You didn't feel anything when you helped me up outside; not that we were trying for anything. I consciously trust you, man, but whatever watches over me just met you."
Mouse continued to look up at me, thumping his tail expectantly. An idea started to congeal in my head. "What if…" When Harry looked up, I continued. "What if we used an intermediary? A direct approach will just slam my shields down, but I feel pretty comfortable with your dog. And obviously you do too. You said he's a powerful, preceptive being; and that he and I may have some type of connection to begin with. Could we achieve something similar if we both touched Mouse with the intent that goes behind a Soul Gaze?"
Harry glanced down at Mouse, who hadn't once taken his eyes off me or the sandwich. He blinked and frowned. "Can't say I ever used my dog as an energetic conduit before." He was clearly intrigued though and said, "Couldn't be any harm in it though. How about it, boy? Wanna try closing the circuit for us?"
Mouse looked over at Harry and grinned. The dog stood up, walked to the side of the coffee table that was between the couch and chair and plopped himself down with a doggie grunt; wagging his tail at us.
"Okay then," Harry said, heaving himself up out of the chair.
I broke the last bit of sandwich in half; popped one part in my mouth and covertly gave the rest to Mouse once I sat down on the floor next to him. Harry sat on the other side.
"Just touch and think open thoughts?" I asked.
"We'll see how that goes," Harry agreed.
Mouse had every confidence, it would seem.
Together, Harry and I placed our hands on Mouse. I closed my eyes.
The weirdest sensation washed over me. One moment, I could feel Mouse's warmth beneath my hands; felt his light breathing. The next, I was standing in a green, sunny valley, surrounded by tall, snow-capped mountains. There were flowers all around me. The air was cool and crisp. I turned and saw Mouse standing not too far away. He and the place seemed so familiar together. Mouse stared at me with an intense gaze and suddenly I was standing someplace else. Here, there was no bright sunshine, green grass or clear blue sky. Black and white clouds were all I could see. The mountain air was replaced with an oppressive sense of powerful energy; dangerous only because there was so much of it.
There was a brief feeling of dread. These were the same clouds, the same power that I'd perceived when I'd touched Harry's hand before. This time though the clouds parted and I saw Harry standing about twenty feet away. He was staring straight ahead, but not at me. I was grateful for that because the look in his eyes was incredibly intense; seeing more than they should.
His right hand was plunged into the white bank of clouds; his left hand the black. I couldn't tell if he was shackled to the clouds or somehow holding them in place. Maybe both.
He was breathing a little heavy as though he'd just done battle or was going to. Stored energy crackling all around. Despite what I felt, he wasn't at all afraid; just determined. This power was his to command. He knew it was deadly and capable of great destruction, and he accepted it. He was tired from all this fighting, from holding and focusing all this power all the time, but he did it anyway; knowing it was the right thing to do. Not to say he hadn't made bad decisions, didn't have regrets; they just didn't stop him.
At his core, he was a good, strong person. It was this knowing that kept him from flinching from the darkness that had crept over his being like tarnish on sliver. There was a resolve in him; perhaps bordering on blind stubbornness, but his path was clear to him and he'd walk it no matter the cost. His purpose was to protect; nothing else. Nothing else was allowed because it could distract from his mission. Did he choose it? Was it given to him? Did it matter?
Because of this, he was alone. Terribly alone. Alone because he had to be; for his safety, for others' safety. The guardian who remains distant because he must. Just like…
I recoiled, drew back. This was too real, too uncomfortable.
The scene before me dissolved. I caught just the briefest glimpse of the mountain meadow and Mouse again before I was back within myself.
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, my heart pounding as though waking from a nightmare.
I looked up and saw Harry staring down at his hands lying limply in his lap. "Why?" he whispered quietly.
"What?" I asked, thoroughly confused. Concern flooded in next. Oh, God! What had happened to him in there?
He looked up at me then, and I rocked back slightly. It wasn't pain in his eyes, or worry, or confusion, or anger, pity or sadness, but some weird mix of all of them. "Why are you so afraid of who you really are?"
He said it in hushed tones, but I could not have reacted any differently if he had yelled and slapped me across the face. An odd sound escaped me. It wasn't a sob, but my eyes suddenly stung with tears. What the hell did he see? Whatever it was, his words awoke a truth in me that I'd apparently been hiding from for most of my life.
"I…I don't know, honestly." I said, looking back down, running my hand over Mouse's fur. I felt like I'd said that phrase at least a hundred times so far this evening. I was being honest, though, I didn't know.
When he didn't say anything, I hazarded a guess, speaking very slowly at first, letting him jump in whenever he wanted to. He didn't. "You know when people ask, 'So, what are you afraid of'? And some people say spiders, or heights. A lot of people fear pain without realizing it. They fear losing a loved one, or their health, or their job, money and status. Pretty much everyone fears death."
I sighed. "Not me. Maybe it makes me jaded, I don't know. But none of those things seem to bother me. My fears are more nebulous. I'm afraid of taking charge, of being given more responsibility than I can handle; of making the wrong decision, of hurting someone. I have hurt people." I sniffed and wiped my eyes. "I want to show people kindness. To be a light so they can find theirs. So many people feel so alone in this world; they don't have to feel that way, because they're not." I glanced up at him, remembering the loneliness I'd seen in him. He continued to regard me steadily, but he still didn't speak. I sighed again.
"I know that whatever is in me is bright and beautiful and good and capable of bringing so much healing to this world. But I just can't bring myself to stretch out my hand to it and say 'yes'."
"Why?" it was so quiet that I could barely hear him say it.
Fresh tears squeezed out from my eyes. Why did this hurt so much?
"Because there won't be any going back," I said, looking back up at him. "I won't be the quirky, loveable friend in the background anymore. I won't be able to hide; secretly helping other people feel safe without them realizing it. There'd be responsibility. Everything I say and do will suddenly really matter. I'll have power. The power to heal and help so, so many people. But also the power to harm if I make a mistake, if a bout of anger pops up at the wrong time; if I lose control at any moment. And…"
"…And you'll be alone," he finished when I didn't.
"Like you."
"Like me." He gave a weak grin. "Like your Grand Chief and Tayoka."
I snorted with a quick laugh, "That's what pulled me out of the Soul Gaze. I realized who you were…well, metaphorically speaking of course. The Grand Chief. Endless power to protect, eternally alone."
"And you created that whole society not knowing that you were writing your soul's purpose?"
"I can be brilliantly naïve," was the flat reply.
"I saw that alien world of yours," Harry commented. "You've got a lot of worlds in there. The fact that you can walk around with any level of sanity is rather impressive, actually."
I chortled at that.
"Well," Harry said, slapping his knees and standing. "I have some good news: you're not fey, partly or whole. You're not a deva or some celestial being."
Somehow an unknown weight lifted off of me. "Well, there's that anyway."
I stayed sitting on the floor with Mouse while Harry returned to his chair and drank down the last of the coke. "You are…" and he paused for effect. "A Bright One."
"A…what?"
"Bright One. They're kind of 'highly evolved' humans, on an energetic level. They're typically healers. In tribal cultures they're medicine people and shamans. In India they're gurus; in Tibetan Buddhism they're Lamas. The West doesn't really know what to do with them. Some do well in the medical field," and he nodded towards me. "Others usually become alternative medicine practitioners and Reiki masters. They open yoga studios, write self-help books and are motivational speakers." Harry glanced over his shoulder at the corner where his coat hung next to the popcorn bucket. "I do know one other Bright One," he said. "He's actually none of those things though. I think I'll take you to meet him tomorrow. Bright Ones are good people with 'bright' souls; hence the name."
"Ah." I was still petting Mouse. He seemed quite content to sit there with me.
"And all those 'shields, protections and guardians' you were worried about?"
"Yeah?"
"All homemade. You do have a very powerful force looking over you – that Guru you mentioned earlier – but other than that, you've done a great job of veiling yourself, even from yourself."
"I…must have had a pretty tough time of it in my last lifetime," I said thoughtfully. "To have carried that level of self-protection over into this one."
"Well, Bright Ones don't tend to fit into the societal norm, hence why they typically tend to live apart from the rest of the world. It could also help explain why and how you were summoned."
"Oh?"
"To know someone's True Name is kind of a big deal," Harry explained. "It gives you power over them. Here's the thing with Bright Ones: there's a finite number of them. They all originated in the Himalaya's," he added, nodding over at Mouse, who thumped his tail happily. "There's probably thousands of them in the world, but there aren't any new ones coming into being. They just get reborn again after their mortal form dies and do it all again; in theory to try to help better all of mankind."
"Swell."
"So, because they're considered such important beings to the holy people of the Himalayas, someone, or someones somewhere knows all of their Names. They might even be written down somewhere."
"So…someone found my Name and summoned me?"
"They would have needed more than that. You can summon a supernatural being with a Name alone; mortals need a little more juice. A physical object that's important to them. Something like a magical focus."
I looked down at my wedding ring in surprise. "But they gave it back!"
"That…" another dramatic pause. "Is not your original wedding ring. It's identical in every way – that's why it was gone for a month – it took that long for…whoever, we'll get to that later…to recreate it. But it is not the ring used at your wedding."
"And you know that how…?"
"Glad you asked, my dear Watson! Any object used for a ritual, even just once, gets infused with a certain type of distinct energy that's easy for the trained eye to perceive. That very lovely, solid silver and gold ring you wear bears none of those telltale signatures."
"They took my ring," I said quietly. "But that was eight years ago! Why would they hold onto it that long, just to summon me now?"
"That…is a great question!" Harry was thoroughly enjoying this Sherlock Holms routine. He sprang up from his chair and walked to a corner behind the couch.
The couch blocked my view, so I had to stand up to look, the blanket still draped around me. I watched as Harry pulled aside one of the many rugs that covered the floor to reveal a trap door. With a smooth, well-practiced motion, he flipped back the door, pushed down a set of folding stairs and headed down.
"But…this is a basement," I noted, bewildered; looking up at the narrow, horizontal windows set high in the walls of the apartment at ground level.
"And it has another basement too," he replied with a laugh from below. "This is my lab. Come on down, there's someone I want you to meet."
I stepped up the opening and stared down into the dark space. I could see candle light flickering off the many objects visible from my vantage point. I was met with the expected scent of mildew. I wasn't terribly surprised by the incense wafting up, or the faint smell of formaldehyde and candle wax. But there were many other scents as well: herbs, gym sneakers, school supplies (they have a scent!), light perfume, melted plastic and rubber; and so many others that I couldn't identify.
I took a deep breath and stepped down the ladder-stairs, though I stopped halfway down and sat on the wooden steps, not wanting to put my bare feet on the concrete floor. The subbasement was even colder than the apartment!
And the place was in utter chaos; which was a bit of a surprise given the general tidiness of the apartment above. A massive work table ran down the full length of the room. Half of it was taken up with a scale model of a city that I assumed was Chicago (I recognized the Sears Tower). It was all done in dull silver (pewter?) and looked ridiculously detailed. The other half of the table was covered with notebooks and pencils in various states of sharpness. Harry was trying to neaten these things up while waiting for me. Random science lab equipment was scattered around here and there.
Three of the walls were covered in those wire shelves you can get from Walmart and packed floor to ceiling with bins and boxes, scrolls and jars. Some labeled, some not. There was even a small, bright yellow box with a pink radiation symbol on the side. There had to be some form of organizational system at work here, but I couldn't decern it.
There was just enough of a goat path to be able to walk fully around the table. A large space had been cleared in the far corner where a seven foot-ish circle was set in the concrete floor with metal wire. It looked like copper, silver and gold were all present.
The fourth wall – the one farthest from the stairs – was downright bare compared to the rest of the room. There was a small, neatly organized desk in the corner opposite the circle and a few more bins lined the floor along the wall, but the rest of the wall held only two wooden bookshelves. Ancient, leatherbound books lined the top shelf, but the lower one was significantly more interesting. On this shelf, bookended on either side by layers of burnt down candles was a rumbled pile of cheesy romance novels (of all things!), and a bleached human skull.
"Bob!" Harry said firmly, "Wake up."
To my surprise, orange lights appeared in the skull's empty eye sockets, and, of its own accord, the skull yawned widely. "Harry, it's the middle of the night. For heaven's sake, get some sleep, you lunatic," it berated in a vaguely British accent.
Despite feeling a bit on the overwhelmed side, I couldn't help but giggle.
The skull snapped its jaws shut and somehow wiggled around to regard me on the stairs.
"Oh, never mind!" it said in a cheerful tone. "I didn't realize you woke me up for a little 'fun in the lab time'. Oh wait, she's all mussed up. You've already banged her and you brought her down here for round two? Oh, Harry, you know just what to get me for Christmas!"
"Can it, Bob!" Harry shot back, testily. "This is Gwen. She is a guest. She's a Bright One who was somehow summoned here to Chicago from upstate New York by some unknown force for some unknown reason, using her True Name and a stolen wedding ring. What can you read off of her?"
"Well, her aura is way off for starters," Bob stated, suddenly serious. "She is human though, and not some shapeshifter come to steal your soul." He sounded almost disappointed with that. I was starting to get the hang of his humor.
"I know that," Harry said through gritted teeth. Apparently Bob the skull enjoyed messing with him. It was cute. "I Soul Gazed her," Harry continued. "What about her aura is off?"
"Well, she's got some pretty impressive shields for one thing, so it's making it difficult to get a clear reading. She can use magic, but not like a wizard does. You said she was a Bright One? That would explain some of the strange undertones. A Bright One who hasn't fully awakened," he mused. "Whew! My dear, when you do decide to go all bodhisattva on the world, don't do it in an enclosed space."
"Got it," I said with a laugh.
Bob seemed to study me more closely, a rather impressive feat for an inanimate object sitting a good 25 feet away. "Her aura is kind of skewed though. It's almost like she's from another realm entirely. Not here, certainly not the Nevernever. Somewhere like here, but…different. A parallel reality perhaps?"
Harry blinked in surprise, "That…actually fits. I don't know why I didn't think of that." Looking over at me, he said, "That'd explain why your phone calls didn't go through; and why the way you're used to handling magic is different. Why you don't know anything about the magical community. There probably isn't a magical community where you're from."
"But if I'm from another reality, how could we run that parallel with such drastic differences in the accessibility of magic? I mean, you've seen Sneakers. We have Big Bang Theory where I'm from," and I plucked at the "Bazinga!" tee-shirt. "There's a Chicago, Illinois. I even recognized several of the books on your shelves upstairs. Great taste in literature by the way," I added; there was a lot of sci-fi and fantasy.
Harry shrugged. "The magical community has kept things low-key for centuries. The fact that the average person tends to only perceive what they expect and block out what they don't has really helped us cover our tracks throughout the years."
"Okay," I said, accepting that. "So why would someone summon me from a parallel reality to here?"
"Because this is the core reality," Bob stated, matter-of-factly. When both Harry and I turned to him, he continued. "I don't know if you know this, but there are many parallel realities running in close tandem. Twelve very similar realities encircling and kind of buffering one core reality. There're more realities than that, of course, many more; but they get more different and weirder as they move farther from the core reality."
"Like Sliders," Harry and I said at the same time, grinning at each other after saying it.
"How do you know that this is the core reality?" I asked.
"Because it's the closest to the Nevernever. From what I understand, it's far more difficult to access the Nevernever from other dimensions, and vice versa."
"And, what is the Nevernever?" I asked, remembering that Harry had mentioned it earlier too.
"It's the fey realm," Harry explained. "And the place where ghosts who haven't moved on hang out. It's where elves and gnomes and dwarves live. It's where you'll find Baba Yaga, fairy tale witches, dragons, and unicorns. If you wander in deep enough, it's also where you can supposedly find the Christian heaven, the Elysian Fields, Valhalla, and any other afterlife location."
"And all those places can be reached directly from here?"
"Yeah, if you know where to open a Way. Some places can only be reached from within the Nevernever though. It's a pretty big place."
Bob picked up the narrative again, "Traveling between dimensions is doable, but it takes a significant amount of energy, so few do it. A lot of work for little payoff – there isn't really much reason to mess around with other realities. The ones closest to the core will always eventually realign with it, even if something catastrophic happens in them. They buffer the core reality, but it also buffers them."
"Something catastrophic?" I asked. "Like a global pandemic?"
Harry and, presumably Bob just started at me.
"You know, Covid-19? The plague that shut down the world for two years. We're only now coming out of it. Anything?"
More blank looks.
"Who's the president of the United States?" Harry asked.
"Joe Biden."
"Houston, we have a problem," Harry said as though the pieces of a puzzle were falling into place. "Wasn't Biden Obama's Vice President?" he asked.
"Yeah, he ran after Trump."
"What?" he and Bob said.
"That idiot actually won the election where you're from?" Harry asked, appalled.
"You guys got Hilary?" I asked, saddened by the what-might-have-been. (But her e-mails!). "Okay, so it looks like we were running really close together for a while. There's obviously been a rather dramatic split that couldn't have happened that long ago. You said Obama had been president."
"Served two terms."
"Good, ours did too. So, the split happened sometime around, what 2015? 2016? Maybe a little sooner, but not by much," I said, counting on my fingers. "Definitely before the 2016 election though."
"Sounds about right," Harry said.
"But nothing really bad happened around that time that I can think of." I racked my brains. "A lot of celebrities died in 2016 and I got really sick early in the year. Came down with mono really suddenly. Kind of haven't been the same since."
"Harry," Bob said slowly. "Do you know what today is?"
"The Solstice," we both said at the same time.
"Right," Bob explained. "The thing with Bright Ones is they don't duplicate across realities like most mortals do. There's only one 'you' and it only exists in your reality. There's some equivalent mortal filling your societal role in the other realities, but they're not you. It means that Bright Ones have a strong bond with the reality they live in and don't adjust well to the others; well except for here of course, since you all originally came from here. The Bright Ones were sent out to the other realities millennia ago to kind of 'anchor' them and keep them attached to the core reality."
"Someone is going to use the Solstice energies to unanchored another reality," Harry said, his head in his hands.
"Another?" I asked. "You think that's what happened to mine? Wait, what happens if a reality stays unanchored?"
"In theory it loses its connection to the core reality and gets weirder and weirder as it drifts away, eventually succumbing to entropy and falling apart," Bob supplied.
"How long would that take?" I asked, my throat suddenly dry.
"Well, probably the time it would take for all the Bright One in that reality to die and return to the core. They wouldn't be able to be reborn on the drifting reality. Once all the Bright Ones are gone, the reality would likely implode. A hundred years or so at the most."
"And your split must have happened at the Winter Solstice seven years ago," Harry said. "That's…right before Victor Sells did that orgy magic to make 'ThreeEye'. And things have just been getting darker since."
"The unanchored reality caused a hole that has let in all these nasty things you've been dealing with these past seven years," Bob confirmed.
"And my reality got unanchored how…?" I asked.
"Bright Ones hold the realities together," Bob said. "They can also take one apart if some dark, demented power used them that way. I mentioned that a Bright One's energy doesn't align well with other realities. I guess, in theory, if you took a bunch of unawakened Bright Ones and distributed them around a reality that isn't their own and 'woke them up' all at once, that could in theory release enough energy to dislodge a whole reality."
"Someone did that to my reality?" I asked.
"It looks like it," Harry said quietly.
"How am I going to get home?" there was a distance scream of panic starting to bubble up in the back of my mind.
Silence filled the room.
"It's altogether possible that you may not," Bob finally said.
My heart was pounding in my ears. "I have a family," I whispered. "A home, a job, a cat. A life."
"We'll do what we can to get you home," Harry said firmly. "First, we need to do something about what's possibly going to happen later today. What time is the actual Solstice?"
"A little before 4:00 this evening," Bob rattled off.
"Who would be crazy enough to do something like this?" Harry asked, grabbing a notebook and pencil.
I think he said more after that, but the world started spinning. I realized that as embarrassing and frustrating as it was, my mind was finally "noping out".
"Guys…" I said weakly.
Things got fuzzy after that. I heard Bob and Harry speaking, but nothing made it through. I think I was carried back upstairs and laid on the couch. Blankets were tucked in around me. I was vaguely aware of Mister curling in behind my knees. Then everything just dissolved into darkness.