A Quarrel Called: Stewards Of The Plane Book 1 (28 page)

75. SAM

“He can be rescued,” I repeated firmly, though what I really
wanted to do was strangle the broad. I’d only met
her a
couple of times whenever Tara had dragged me and Melody into her shop, and
she’d seemed all right then, if a bit spacey. She ignored me completely now.

“You’re doing a fine job of minding my shop,” she said to
Tara, her brow arched and her lips twisted in a smirk. “Consider yourself fired
whenever we get back to town and this is all over with.”

Tara’s eyes widened, and her face went white, but she just
nodded.

For some reason, Esme picking on Tara like that just made me
angry. Sure Tara was kind of annoying after a while, but she was my friend, and
what else were we supposed to do? According to Melody’s grandfather, we were
the only full quarrel in the area, and we were called to deal with this threat.
We had to come. Esme should have understood that.

But Esme was ignoring everyone, focused on opening the trunk
to her car and unloading small white plastic canvas sacks. She picked one up,
tossed it over her shoulder, and began walking around to the back of the
building.

“What is that?” I asked no one in particular.

“Sacks of lime to draw the circle – to contain the energy,”
said Gram with a frown. “That’s not nearly
so
dangerous as what she plans to do after the circle is drawn.” She shared a look
with her husband and then motioned for me and G. to take the other sacks out of
her trunk and put them in the trunk of their car instead.

We got the last item thrown into the back of the car and the
trunk locked as she rounded the corner on the way back. I watched G. shove the
keys deep into his pocket and how he rocked back on his heels, knees slightly
bent, and I realized suddenly that there might be an altercation between him
and the older woman.

“This is ridiculous,” I said. “You can’t just barge in here
and have your way. We were here first.”

Esme didn’t look at me. Instead she was glancing between the
empty trunk of her car and the keys in the pocket of G.’s pants, and I was
struck with the idea that her staring at G.’s crotch might be funny if only
there wasn’t some solar eclipse trans-dimensional gateway of doom already on
our doorstep.

Esme looked at Gram. “It doesn’t matter. I have enough to
draw the circle – just barely. And it doesn’t take much sulfur to do the job,
so this little packet I have in my pocket will just have to be enough.” She
patted the left chest-pocket on her blouse where there was a distinct bulge.

I looked at G. and he looked at me – both of us unwilling to
assault a woman to grope her chest and retrieve a baggie of sulfur.

And then Lily walked right up, stood squarely in front of
Esme and reached out to grab the packet from Esme’s bulging pocket. Affronted,
Esme grabbed Lily’s wrist with one hand and slapped her like a child with the
other.

Lily’s head snapped to the side with the blow, and her left
hand came up to hold her cheek. And as Esme watched her rub the red imprint of
her hand with a grim sort of satisfaction, Lily threw a crazy-fast right hook
that the older woman didn’t even see coming.

“Bitch,” said Lily, now holding her cheek and shaking her
fist loosely. “We told you, we were here first.”

Esme had crumpled to the ground, and while everyone else was
blinking in surprise at what had just happened, I darted in to remove the
packet from her shirt while she was still reeling from the punch. I palmed it
and passed it to G., who buried it in his other pocket.

“Now what do we do?” asked Melody, looking down at Esme with
a frown. “I mean, with her?”

Melody’s grandmother looked around. “For now, we just watch
her to make sure that she doesn’t get in the way.” She looked down at Esme and
shook her head. “After what happened with Harold, you should have known better
than to come here. I might have said I forgave you for what happened – but you
know and I know and Harold knows that it was your fault all along. There is no
way I am going to let you do that to these kids, and most definitely not to the
only grandchild I have left.”

Esme was sitting back on her butt in the dirt, holding the
side of her face gingerly. “But they’re winning, don’t you see? If we don’t
stop them, if we don’t kill the node, then we don’t have any hope!”

Gram sliced her hand through the air decisively. “That’s
enough of your nonsense, Esme! Not another word or I will… I don’t know what,
but I swear you won’t like it.”

Esme sent a beseeching look at Melody’s Grandfather, but he
just shook his head.

“You went too far last time, Esme,” he said. “You’re going
to have to sit this one out.” He wheeled his chair around and pushed off in the
direction of the back of the building with the arrow in front of it. “Come on
Melody. You and I have some things to talk about before this really gets
cooking. And I could use some help with my chair.”

I watched them walk off and then turned to look at Lily, who
was basically glaring from me to G. and back again.

“Will someone please tell me why I had to assault an old
woman for some little mojo bag in her pocket?”

“I’m not old,” said Esme from her spot on the ground. “I’m
only forty-four.”

“Whatever,” said Lily, rolling her
eyes.

“Sorry you, ah, felt you needed to jump in like that,” said
G., coming over to stand near us.

“Yeah, well, it was obvious that you and Boy Wonder weren’t
going to do anything. I get it. You’re strong young men and she’s an old, frail
woman with a package in her
breast
pocket.”

I had to admit that she’d
sussed
the pertinent details quickly enough. I opened my mouth to comment, but not
before Margaret had walked up.

“I can’t say that I approve of your methods, but I do
appreciate you stepping into a precarious situation.”

Lily looked at Gram, and her face softened just a fraction,
though she was clearly still irritated with G. and me. “No problem. Can you
tell me why it was necessary?”

“How much have they”—she gestured to us—“told you?”

“Not much, just something about your grandson being trapped
in a vortex and you came to get him out.”

Margaret inhaled sharply. “Not entirely accurate, but close
enough for government work.” She spread her arms out indicating the space
around them and around the building. “There are ley lines – electro-magnetic
lines of energy – running under the ground here. Two lines in fact: one going
in a northwest to southeast direction, and another going in a southwest to
northeast direction. At the point that these lines cross is a node, and often
near a node, the barrier between dimensions is thinner.
When
this happens, a vortex forms.

“Over there, behind that building, is the center of a
vortex. This vortex in particular is a thinning of the barrier between our
dimension and one of a lower frequency. It is darker there, slower, and sound
is muffled. In comparison, this place is like heaven. And the creatures from
there want to escape. When they sniff out a tear on their side, they push and
poke at it until
it’s
large enough for them to stream
right through.”

Lily’s eyes widened a little at this. “Are they coming through
now?”

“No, the sunlight is too intense for them. If they are
already coming through, they are doing it at night. Except that today…” she
said, trailing off and staring briefly up at the sky.

“Today is a full solar eclipse,” I finished.
“An unnatural darkening of the day.”
I was beginning to
sound like Tara, repeating verbatim whatever sound bite I was told.

“But won’t they burn up as soon as the eclipse is over?” G.
asked.

I was wondering the same thing.

“No, not if they can get through in the beginning. They are
fastest and strongest at night, but the eclipse gives them a sort of additional
boost because it is more than just night, it’s a weakening of the sun’s
influence over our plane. They will zip through to corners of the earth
unknown. And it is our job”—she paused and looked levelly at G. and me—“
Your
job, to stop them.”

Lily and I walked over to where Margaret had set out the
sandwich items and got in line behind G. and Tara. We were all hungry, and
she’d told us to fend for ourselves. The wind had started gusting, and I was
both nervously excited and dismayed to see storm clouds on the horizon. The sky
overhead was still blue and the sun high, but the clouds… they were ominous and
reminded me a lot of my dream. My stomach clenched a little bit, and I fought
down the urge to stammer.

“Hey G.,” I said and jutted my chin in the direction of the
clouds.

He looked at the incoming storm and then back to me.
“Probably should put the top up on the convertible.”

“Yeah.”
I walked over to the car,
him following me. We pulled the ragtop out, stretched it over the car, and
fastened it into place. Then we each opened a door and sat inside to roll up
the windows manually.

“So what’s the big deal with Esme’s bag of sulfur?” G.
asked, pausing for a moment, his hand on the car door. “I mean, if it works,
why the big confrontation? Couldn’t we just use it
after
we rescue Melody’s brother?”

“I’ve got no idea, bro, but Melody’s grandparents seemed
really angry, and I’ve known them a long time, like years, and I have never
seen them get angry like that. So whatever the reason, I’ve
gotta
believe it’s a good one.”

76. MELODY

Gramps told me to ground myself, so I dug a shallow hole,
filled it with black tourmaline chunks, and planted my feet on top. He wanted
me to do it this way because he said it would accomplish two things at one time
– I would be grounded, and the black tourmaline would get discharged straight
into the earth, making it an even more effective conductor of negative
frequencies, which he said would be all around us. From the static buzz already
in the air, I didn’t have any problem imagining it.

“Nervous?” he said, wheeling his chair up next to me, where
I sat on the ground, my feet nestled in the pile of sand and black tourmaline
chunks.

“Yes,” I confessed without hesitation. “I don’t know what to
expect, I have only been doing this whole energy-sensing crap for a couple of
months, and I feel utterly and totally unprepared for the task. I mean – what
will I even see? Will it be hordes of the black tentacle things? Will it be
even worse than that?”

“Each vortex is different. This one feels very ripe to me.
The static in the air, the sharp, raw ambient noise, the metallic
taste of the air.
This vortex hasn’t ruptured yet, but given the event
of an eclipse – yes, it could be very bad. But the creatures aren’t what you
should worry about most.”

“No? Because to be frank, Gramps, they freak the ever-living
crap out of me.”

He gave a firm shake of his head and wheeled closer in his
chair. “No. They will come pouring out like a torrent. They will be going so
fast and so furiously that you can hardly distinguish one from the next. No,
what you have to worry about is trying to keep the vortex stable and
open
long enough for us to pull Matthew
out.”

“But Gram said…”

“I know what your Gram said. She doesn’t want you to get
your hopes up. But I am telling you, I believe it is possible, even probable
that he is not only alive, but able to escape.”

“Then why doesn’t
she
?”

“Your Gram is a very talented Lantern. But she hasn’t seen
Matthew in any of her dreams, and that makes her not trust Sam’s. But I trust
Sam’s dreams over Gram’s in this case.” He gestured firmly with his hand,
making a point.

“Why?”

“Because Gram is too close to this one to
see clearly.
Sam is not. If he says that Matthew came to him, then I
believe him. But your Gram wants to be
convinced
,
and just saying Sam saw him in a dream isn’t
enough for her. So I’m telling you this now, because when the time comes to
close the vortex, you are going to have to hold on a little bit longer. You
will have to do it on your own and trust your gut. Don’t let go until you’re
sure, one way or another.”

I wanted to believe Gramps was right – so badly. But Gram
was always the steady one in our little family; Gramps was the one prone to
flights of silliness and fancy – even before his legs stopped working properly.
I looked at him in his chair, at his withered form and compared what I saw to
how he looked only a few years ago when the photo in Fredericksburg was taken.
I wondered suddenly how it happened.

“You said you guys have done this before.”

“Yes,” he said.
“More than once.
But not in a long time now.”

“Because of
your
… condition.”

He looked down at his legs and then away. “Yes.”

“Gramps, tell me the truth. Tell me why your legs stopped
working… why it came on so suddenly.”

He stared off into the distance, his eyes searching the
storm clouds. The air gusted, blowing his fringe of gray around his head like
so many wisps of dandelion seeds. “The last time we did this – the last vortex
we closed, it was a dark one, like this one. And I burned up. I tried to
channel the energy, to bring the streams back together, to mend the rift, and
it was too much for me. I was too old.”

“Too old?”
—I paused—“or did Esme
do
something.”

“I think it might have happened anyways. But Esme burning
out the
node, that
was icing on the cake. I didn’t let
go soon enough, and it burned me out, too. I was okay for a little while, but
my synapses were shot, and whatever years I had left in them, in me, were used
up before their time. So I can still walk a little bit, but my legs, they don’t
really obey me anymore. It’s tricky, you see. The human body is a very complex
circuit. And what we do, you and me, and others like us, is incorporate our
complex circuit into a grand design infinitely more complex. And that day in
Fredericksburg, I wasn’t up to the task.”

My eyes burned a little bit, realizing now how hard it must
be to be out here in the desert with me and the others, knowing that he
couldn’t participate, or help, or even stop me from making the same mistake he
made. It scared me to know that I could burn up my nervous system, but it
saddened me even more.

“I love you, Gramps,” I said, reaching out to hold his hand.

“I love you, too,
Melly
-bean.”

I smiled at the nickname. It had been a long time since he’d
called me that. After a moment I took a deep breath.

“Okay,” I said. “Tell me what
not
to do.”