Celeste
By Crystal Thomas Worrell (CTW) and D. G. Grace (DGG)
[CTW] Brake lights! Ice! Celeste downshifted savagely, tearing through the lower gears of her grey Jaguar. Time slowed. Her heart raced and vaulting itself in her throat as she grappled her skidding car for control. Her seat belt jerked tautly against her body as the wheels finally gripped solid pavement.“You stupid son of a…!” she growled deep and guttural slapping the steering wheel savagely. Without conscious thought she collapsed back into the leathery embrace of her bucket seat and took a long, deep breath.
A squeak from the passenger side drew her attention and she glanced over to see the long-haired, tan cat indignantly clawing his way back onto the seat. His tail twitched back and forth like wiper blades and his ears and whiskers pressed flat against his furry head.
She bit her lower lip suppressing a laugh--apparently his pride had been sorely wounded when he was dumped gracelessly on the floor.
“Are you all right, Jacob?” she asked him, unable to stop the grin from stealing across her face.
He stared back at her, his golden eyes narrowed into thin slits as he scolded her with a deep, shrieking meow and looked pointedly away.
:What do you think?: he sent her in a short terse thought.
“I’m sorry,” she told him as she reached over to scratch his ears. How like a normal cat he could be sometimes.
“You know I didn't exactly plan that.” she said.
She stared at the snowy, ice packed road. “God, how I hate to drive, especially in this mess. Remind me again why I like Minnesota so much?” she asked Jacob as she gestured to the snow pelting her tinted windshield.
Jacob didn't respond. He leaned heavily into her hand as she scratched behind his ears and under his chin. His ears once again raised and his whiskers protruding forward as he purred loudly.
With a mental shrug, she slowly pulled her car into the intersection and began to follow her mental landmarks down the snowy back streets of St. Paul.
She bit her lower lip suppressing a laugh--apparently his pride had been sorely wounded when he was dumped gracelessly on the floor.
“Are you all right, Jacob?” she asked him, unable to stop the grin from stealing across her face.
He stared back at her, his golden eyes narrowed into thin slits as he scolded her with a deep, shrieking meow and looked pointedly away.
:What do you think?: he sent her in a short terse thought.
“I’m sorry,” she told him as she reached over to scratch his ears. How like a normal cat he could be sometimes.
“You know I didn't exactly plan that.” she said.
She stared at the snowy, ice packed road. “God, how I hate to drive, especially in this mess. Remind me again why I like Minnesota so much?” she asked Jacob as she gestured to the snow pelting her tinted windshield.
Jacob didn't respond. He leaned heavily into her hand as she scratched behind his ears and under his chin. His ears once again raised and his whiskers protruding forward as he purred loudly.
With a mental shrug, she slowly pulled her car into the intersection and began to follow her mental landmarks down the snowy back streets of St. Paul.
*************
[DGG] The surrounding walls were becoming less smooth--more unfinished brick and wood. The road became bumpier, and the radio died. Celeste noticed the steering wheel becoming harder, thinner, padded only by her gloves. The windshield curve flattened out and her engine coughed. Celeste groaned, "Not my brand new Jag. Gawain, you Luddite asshole."
Cold air, flavored with coal smoke, leaked in at all sides.
Jacob slid closer to her across the now single bench seat, buried his face in her full layers of skirts and petticoats. He was shivering.
: What idiot designed a car with no heater? A low, whiny growl leaked from the cat.
"Don't complain, Darling. At least we still have a motor vehicle."
: You're sure this is Gawain's doing? Jacob burrowed into Celeste's petticoats.
Celeste dragged back the edge of her left cuff with her right forefinger. The touchscreen on her bracelet winked bluegreen in the morning light.
"Yeah. It's Gawain."
: Good. Remind me to scratch the bastard. Or punch him in the face, if... The thought trailed off.
"Could be worse. Knowing Gawain's tastes, I'm surprised he left us with internal combustion." Celeste frowned. Jacob was adorable like this, but she couldn't imagine how frustrating it must be. She caressed the cat roughly, hoping to warm him a bit.
: I heard that.
"Heard what? I didn't say anything."
:Pity.
"You can hear pity?"
: Like a foghorn.
"Wow. Maybe I underestimated the advantages of--"
The Model-T came to a teeth-jarring halt, both front wheels falling into deep ruts in the recently refrozen street mud. The engine choked, sputtered, and died.
Celeste rubbed her chest where the huge steering wheel had struck. Shaking her head, she looked down at the dashboard. No key. Just a choke knob. Then she saw the crank handle on the floorboard and groaned. Was it even possible to restart one of these things without help? Didn't someone have to operate the choke while she cranked--O screw this. Celeste pulled back her skirts and eyed her boots. Laced. Ankle high. Two-inch spiky heels. Really? Heels? In this weather?
She checked her wrist screen again, tapping up the last update of the GPS before the satellite signals had disappeared. The blue dot showed that Gawain should be just a few blocks away--well, had been a few blocks away. Celeste removed her shawl, gathered up the complaining cat, and kicked the door open.
"Come on, Romeo. Looks like we're hoofing it."
Jacob growled within the bundle of shawl. : What kind of self-respecting witch walks in weather like this?
"One who can't read early Twentieth-Century wards and would prefer avoiding death or dismemberment. Don't complain. At least you're warm."
: You have a point. Anyone watching?
Celeste looked around, slowly, not wanting to look too furtive. "Not a soul in sight. It's early."
: Good. Jacob began purring.
Celeste noticed the warmth before she noticed the weight. She glanced down at her shoulder and saw that she was now wearing a sable jacket. "Aw, aren't you a sweety."
Cold air, flavored with coal smoke, leaked in at all sides.
Jacob slid closer to her across the now single bench seat, buried his face in her full layers of skirts and petticoats. He was shivering.
: What idiot designed a car with no heater? A low, whiny growl leaked from the cat.
"Don't complain, Darling. At least we still have a motor vehicle."
: You're sure this is Gawain's doing? Jacob burrowed into Celeste's petticoats.
Celeste dragged back the edge of her left cuff with her right forefinger. The touchscreen on her bracelet winked bluegreen in the morning light.
"Yeah. It's Gawain."
: Good. Remind me to scratch the bastard. Or punch him in the face, if... The thought trailed off.
"Could be worse. Knowing Gawain's tastes, I'm surprised he left us with internal combustion." Celeste frowned. Jacob was adorable like this, but she couldn't imagine how frustrating it must be. She caressed the cat roughly, hoping to warm him a bit.
: I heard that.
"Heard what? I didn't say anything."
:Pity.
"You can hear pity?"
: Like a foghorn.
"Wow. Maybe I underestimated the advantages of--"
The Model-T came to a teeth-jarring halt, both front wheels falling into deep ruts in the recently refrozen street mud. The engine choked, sputtered, and died.
Celeste rubbed her chest where the huge steering wheel had struck. Shaking her head, she looked down at the dashboard. No key. Just a choke knob. Then she saw the crank handle on the floorboard and groaned. Was it even possible to restart one of these things without help? Didn't someone have to operate the choke while she cranked--O screw this. Celeste pulled back her skirts and eyed her boots. Laced. Ankle high. Two-inch spiky heels. Really? Heels? In this weather?
She checked her wrist screen again, tapping up the last update of the GPS before the satellite signals had disappeared. The blue dot showed that Gawain should be just a few blocks away--well, had been a few blocks away. Celeste removed her shawl, gathered up the complaining cat, and kicked the door open.
"Come on, Romeo. Looks like we're hoofing it."
Jacob growled within the bundle of shawl. : What kind of self-respecting witch walks in weather like this?
"One who can't read early Twentieth-Century wards and would prefer avoiding death or dismemberment. Don't complain. At least you're warm."
: You have a point. Anyone watching?
Celeste looked around, slowly, not wanting to look too furtive. "Not a soul in sight. It's early."
: Good. Jacob began purring.
Celeste noticed the warmth before she noticed the weight. She glanced down at her shoulder and saw that she was now wearing a sable jacket. "Aw, aren't you a sweety."
************
[CTW] Celeste tramped through the snow
trying to take the sidewalk where ever possible, which due to the snowstorm was
not often. She then tried to stay in the
tracks of cars that had passed and tripped and stumbled around for her
effort.
:When
did you become such a klutz? You are
only a few hundred years old, you should be in better shape than this.:
griped her furry passenger.
:Be
nice or I’ll let you walk too.: she barked back at the furball.
With her next step she twisted her
ankle and feel face down in the snow.
She sat up and slammed her hands down on both sides of her, “When I get
my hands on that wall eyed, muck sucking, gutter snipe, I’m going to…I’m going
to…I’m going to...”
“You’re going to do what sister
mine?” Gawain laughed and just stood there pointing at his sister, his laugh
continuing. “Gotcha!” he finally exclaimed
when he could find the breath.
Celeste’s face turned red and she struggled
to her feet. Then, without warning, her
face changed from frustration to an evil grin which she turned on him. Her eyes had dilated and were turning
red.
“Oh no Celeste, I know that
look. You wouldn’t dare. It was just a joke.” he pleaded.
“I did not find the least bit of
humor in that Gawain, look at me.” she said, pointing at her snow covered body.
:Nor
did I. I’m wet and cold.: chimed in
Jacob.
Celeste took a step toward her
brother, well her step-brother to be exact, and raised a hand pointing toward
him.
“Really Celeste, let’s shake and
let by gones be by gones,” he said nearly pleading.
“Are you crazy, in the middle of
winter, in a snow storm, you do this!
Let me show you how it feels you overgrown imp.”
She waved her hand slightly and
watched as the stitching in his clothing dissolved and fell to the ground,
leaving him stark naked.
**********
[DGG] Seeing her brother’s bared torso,
Celeste’s eyes dilated. Her hand went to her mouth, and she gasped.
Jacob, peeking out of the bundled
shawl, thought :Jesus, Gawain. What happened to you?:
Gawain’s smile disappeared. His
eyebrows drew heavy curtains of shadow over his eyes. “Damn it, Celeste,” Gawain’s
dropped his left hand to cover his crotch. “This is no time for
sibling rivalry.” He raised his right hand, snapped his fingers, and the light
level surrounding around Celeste dimmed.
Celeste blinked until her eyes
recovered from their brief bout of snow blindness. They were in a
well-appointed drawing room, a fully-stoked fireplace blazing merrily away.
Heavy, blood-red curtains blocked out the sunshine, and a handful of gaslamps
added feeble light to the fire. Jacob was still under her arm, but her brother
had disappeared.
“Gawain?” Celested looked around.
Two doors led into the room. One was open and led to a sunlit room.
Gawain stepped from the sunlit
room, tying the belt of a silk dressing gown at his waist. “You know, sister,
there are those who would question the deep-seated psychological issues of a
woman who finds excuses to strip her younger brother naked—with her husband
looking on, no less.”
Celeste frowned down at Jacob, who
promptly leapt from the shawl and strutted over to the fire. :Hadn’t you
heard, Gawain? She divorced me.:
Celeste dropped the empty shawl and
turned on Gawain. “Don’t start trying to be funny, Gawain, or to distract me. I
saw those scars. I’ve never seen anything like that. What the hell happened to
you, Sweety?”
:From muck-sucking, walleyed
guttersnipe to Sweety in under five minutes. Not bad.: Jacob sat before the
fire, licking his paw.
“Can it, Jacob. Gawain, what the
hell is going on? You called us here, but then dragged us back into the
Twentieth Century. Now I find that your torso is covered with scars that look
like you’ve been streaked with napalm.”
Gawain shrugged. “I didn’t drag you
here, and the scars are from Balrog’s whip.”
Celeste backed up, finding an easy
chair with the backs of her knees, and sat down slowly. “Balrog?
Gawain, what the hell are you
talking about? Balrog is a fiction. There’s no such thing.”
Gawain shivered. “No. There isn’t.
Unless Ninue wants there to be. She’s incredibly powerful, Celeste.”
:Ninue? Merlin’s mythic girlfriend?
If he’s a myth, shouldn’t she be one, too?:
Gawain coughed out a syllable that
might have been a scrap of laughter. “O, she’s real enough, Jacob. She’s the
one dragging us back in time—dragging me, actually. You guys just
got stuck in the vortex. I managed to hold onto our comm-screens, for all the
good they do back here. She’s trying to drag me back to England, as well, but
it’s been easier to fight the traction through volumetric dimensions than
through time. This—1907—is the best I could do. I know you’d rather be back up
in the Twenty-First Century or maybe back home in the Twenty-Fourth.”
Celeste rubbed her temples with the
thumb and middle finger of her right hand. “Hecate’s loins, Gawain. Who is
this woman? What does she want with you? Why have you been tortured?”
Gawain frowned, looked at the
floor. “She’s a rogue. One of ours, of course. She’s very old, very angry. She
plans to remake to world using her magic. She’s living in a heavily-shielded
cave in Northumbria, and she has the Merlin. She plans to activate it in A.D.
656 and bring magic to Anglo-Saxon England.”
Celeste gasped. “That’s insane.
Bringing magic to a pre-Cartesian society will push scientific progress back
thousands of years and inhabit the wild spaces with all manner of inhuman
monsters. Why would anyone want to do that?”
“I gather from what little she said
that she doesn’t think too highly of our version of progress. She’s had a rough
time. She lost everyone she cared about in World War III.”
Jacob growled. :You’re talking
nonsense, Gawain. There’s never been a WWIII.:
Gawain shrugged. “Not in our
timeline. You should see the radiation burns on that woman.Yeek. She
wants me back. She knows I went forward to the Center. She may have guessed
that I had her fingerprint on my comm-screen, I don’t know if she realized I
had some of her DNA. Hell, she may even think I’d already figured out who she
is. I’m honestly kind of surprised I didn’t—even with the scars and the years
and her messed-up throat. I should have known her.”
Jacob purred. :How’d you
manage the DNA?:
Gawain grinned. “She kissed me. She
was taunting me, but I bit her lip. Managed to keep a scrap of her skin wedged
in my teeth until I could get my hand free.”
Celeste smirked, crossed her arms.
“Okay, little brother, so you figured her out. Who is she, Sherlock?”
Gawain glanced down at his
comm-screen, touched a few points. “Okay, it should be on your screen, now.
This is the old woman who’s trying to destroy the world.”
Celeste looked down at the screen.
“This isn’t funny, Gawain.”
Gawain shook his head, frowning.
“No. It’s not. It’s not a joke.”
Celeste dropped her hands, fell
back against the chair, and paled. “This Ninue—she’sme.”
***************
[CTW] Jacob came away from the fire, no
longer chilled from the winter’s snow.
He climbed into Celeste’s lap hoping to be lavished with tender strokes
of affection. That was not what he
got. What he got was Celeste sitting
entirely still, slouching in her chair, unaware of his presence.
Jacob not one to be easily
disappointed, stretched across her lap, content to share her bodies heat. Both cat and woman went unusually quiet. Gawain sat across from them and watched
intently, chewing on his bottom lip and tapping his foot. He was waiting for some kind of action, word,
scream, anything but silence.
Celeste jumped up from her chair
and dump Jacob to the floor with a shrieking meow.
He righted himself on his feet and
rushed out from under her shuffling feet.
:What the hell woman?: he
screamed mentally out loud as he fell to the floor.
Celeste frantically paced the room
back and forth. She zipped back and
forth raising her hands and swinging them around. Occasionally Gawain and Jacob heard a word or
two escape her lips. “What the …?”
followed by more pacing, “…not right”, silence, more pacing, “….off my rocker…”
pacing, silence, pause, pacing, “…tortured my brother”, pause, silence, pacing,
“…Ninue…the Merlin…” The boys watched
this and took it all in as a normal day at the office..
“Wonder how long she will be like
this, this time?” Gawain asked Jacob who sat under a large table dutifully
cleaning himself.
:Who knows: he remarked, :longest
I’ve seen this go on for was 23 and a half hours, of course that was when she
found out I was a cat. It could be a
while, I’m guessing it’s a bit of a shock.:
“When she was younger she shut out
the entire world when she got like this, has she mellowed any over the past
hundred years?” he asked.
:Nope, completely oblivious. It’s
her coping mechanism when things make no sense.
Perhaps that’s what brought about Ninue, she finally just flipped her
rocker with all the stress or perhaps…more likely, her personality split. That rings truer.:
“How did you live with it for so
many years?” Gawain asked.
:Because,: a mental sigh rang through the room, :Because I love her dearly.
That, and she loves me. However,
it is her unusual condition that aided me in becoming a cat. Word of advice my friend, don’t work magic
and utter a curse at your wife in the same breath, it can have dire
consequences. All I said was, “I’d
rather be a mangy cat than married to you, you shrew” and, well here I am. It seems the universe has a keen sense of
irony.:
“But you said earlier that she
divorced you.”
:Oh, yes, she did. She had to in order to handle our
affairs. I gave her everything in the
divorce, because, well to be blunt, what does a cat need for possessions and
money? I am much better off letting her
pamper me out of guilt.: he chuckled, a strange sound from a cat.
:And, besides, I am still too proud to let people know what I did to
myself. Most people think I ran off to
the 23rd century and that I’m basking on some beach in France with a
bikini model. So, obviously, I’m hoping
in time I can remove this…mess, and we can remarry and move on from there. Of course this new situation may delay that
plan for a while.:
“As for Lestie’s condition, don’t
they have medications that she can take to alleviate this type of behavior?”
Gawain asked. “I mean, it’s really none
of my business but I love her and when she gets like this it worries me.”
:Oh,
they do have medications that can stop this behavior, however she did not wish
to take it and I would never ask her to.
To overcome her “disposition” the only medications available to her
would leave her drooling in the corner and unable to do more than take care of
day to day needs. The brilliant mind we
see light up and sparkle behind those beautiful blue eyes would dull and the
lights would go out. I’d rather deal
with her infrequent “bouts”, than lose the woman I love.:
“Oh,” Gawain replied.
Both men watched Celeste pace back
and forth. “You know it’s actually
relaxing to watch her, it’s like watching a tennis match.”
:You know, you’re right,: Jacob agreed.
The two males watched her pace some
more, but it was boring. It was Gawain
that broke the uncomfortable silence.
“So Jacob, if it’s not too personal, what’s it like being a cat?” With that said, the two men talked for a
couple hours.
Celeste continued to pace back and
forth, back and forth, and then, as quickly as she began, she ceased, plopping
her butt back down in the chair, with an exasperated “Fuck!”
Jacob sat up on his haunches and
looked at her. : Welcome back dear, any amazing break through?:
“No, yes, maybe…at least I have the
whole thing centered in my mind and I can think clearly again. Thanks for your patience,” she replied.
:No problem dear.:
“How long was I out of commission?”
she asked.
:About five hours,: Jacob told her.
“Oh, so not too badly all things
considered. Okay, moving on, Gawain, I
need to know how and when you first noticed you were being trailed—when, where
and how. After we discuss that I’d like
for you to take the time to discuss Balrog with Jacob. Mythical monsters were always his field of
knowledge, I’m lucky to even know what Balrog is. I’ve decided that I’m going to try and move
us to another time period, further away from Northumbria, A.D. 656.”
“Won’t she know where you’ll take
me? She is you after all.”
“She doesn’t know me any better
than I know her. Why the hell did I take
over the name of Ninue and take the Merlin?
Hell, I’m going to have to spend a day researching the Merlin
again. But, whatever, I need to take us
someplace, and sometime that would neither be a place I’d choose or a place I’d
avoid. Those are the most likely places
for me to look, I would imagine I’m not thinking as clearly on this as I,
Ninue, would like.”
:Where then?: Jacob asked.
“I’m thinking 1973. Not the most pleasant time, with Vietnam
mostly over but still a mess, women’s rights moving forward, civil rights
moving forward. It’s a time of stress,
but not of historical significance to me really. Besides, the drugs are good and the sex
doesn’t have commitments, sorry hon,” she said looking at Jacob, “But I’m still
a woman with physical needs.
:I
understand, just as you do when I go out for a few days monthly in the warm
weather. Nature is nature.: Jacob
replied.
“I also think you should leave your
comm-screen in this time period Gawain.
That could be one of the easiest ways for her to track you down. I will give you Jacob’s. I have it somewhere here in my purse,” she
said as she dug around through the bottomless contents. “Oh here it is. I’m sorry hon, but I think you should also
leave your father’s ring and watch those are things I know you would never
willingly part with, and those are also traceable.”
“But…”
“Sorry Gawain, no butts. She will use that as her secondary way of
following you. Everyone knows that you
would not willing part with your heirlooms and I’m sorry to ask you to do so. But we need time. Forcing her to look for you harder, buys us
that time.”
Gawain bowed his head and sighed,
“You are right, I know you are right, but there has to be some way for these to
be returned.”
“Go to the bank and put them in a
safety deposit box or they may be called a paymaster’s strongbox in this time,
I don’t remember. Tell them this is an
inheritance for your great-grandchild who will have the proper verification
with them at the time. Pay them for 100
years and when this is over go back and get it.”
“Now stop whining about
incidentals,” she continued, “we have things to do. Jacob, you and Gawain take care of his items
and discuss this Balrog. I will collect
the items I need to do this spell the old fashioned way, with candles, ritual
and a crystal. It’s much harder to trace
us that way since it leaves a huge amount of magical residue. I should be back by mid-morning” she said and
headed for the door, pausing for a moment to look at her comm-bracelet. “Good, it’s not too early, it’s after
0800.” With that said, she disappeared
out the door.
They heard the door open and then
heard footsteps back, “I nearly forgot, when I return we shall discuss what you
remember of Ninue tracking you down. I
need that information to ponder in the back of my mind while I work on other
things, but not now, I need to be moving.
Cherio” she said and turned on her heels and left. This time they heard the door shut.
“Needs to be moving?” Gawain said, “Well, she seems to have come to
some ideas in her all her manic pacing…that was not moving,” Gawain said
shaking his head.
:So
it would seem: Jacob agreed as he stood up and stretched, arching his
back. :I just hope she remembers what it’s like to be a woman from this
century and what the current currency is or the day could get very interesting,
since I’m sure she did not remember to look at the address of where we are:
*********
[DGG] Reorganizing Celeste’s racing
thoughts gave her few of the answers she sought. Celeste, Gawain, Jacob, and
many others, legally classified as witches and warlocks in the Twenty-Fourth
Century had been an impossibility until the Twenty-Second Century. That’s when
the physicists at Lawrence-Livermore labs had restructured their tokamak field
and accidentally unlocked what many considered the Age of Magic.
Of course, there had always been
magical folk of a sort: telepaths, telekinetics, clairvoyants, psychics, but
centuries of testing had found them impossible to pin down. The clairvoyant who
could clearly see the location of a kidnapped child one minute, couldn’t find
her own car keys the next. The telekinetic who could make furniture fly around
at home couldn’t roll a pencil across a table while being videotaped. Some
believed psionic abilities were simply masked by stress or duress. Others
believed the abilities required the right stressors to activate them.
Most scientists just felt it was a
load of hooey.
No matter how you classified them,
they weren’t the witches and magicians of fantasy lore. No one had ever been
able to turn anyone into a newt, conjure an entire suit of clothes from thin
air, travel on broomstick, travel in time, or actually read minds on a whim.
Prior to the Age of Magic, the world’s magic had been more like an occasional
minor case of psionic hiccups.
Then came the Merlin. A small black
device that—due to a coating of platinum oxide—vaguely resembled the Maltese
Falcon. Before the first startup, however, the Merlin had been seven such
birdlike-appendages attached to a set of three-meter long radial arms attached
to a four-meter-diameter magnetic bottle enclosure that contained fusion
reactions. Ostensibly a magnetic-field generator containing a self-sustaining
fusion reaction, the Merlin’s initial startup changed the world. The fields
started up, the radial-arms lit up. The indicator lights, “eyes” on each of the
seven falcon-like structures, went from red to green. The fusion chamber was
working, drawing in hydrogen from the seven radial arms.
And then everything disappeared.
Everything but one of the seven birdlike things. The remaining bird-thing,
eventually nicknamed The Merlin, floated, detached, mid-air at
the edge of a room that had contained the rest of the tokamak. Three physicists
and six graduate students had also disappeared, never to be seen again in this
dimension. The remaining two physicists spent the rest of their lives trying to
contact their missing colleagues. Their best guess was that, somehow, the other
men and women, along with the rest of the tokamak behind the Merlin, had disappeared
into one or more other dimensions.
Three major effects of the Merlin
incident were identified in the following decade. The speed of light decreased
by .09 percent. Planck’s Constant increased by approximately .1 percent.
Earth’s gravity decreased by a whopping l percent (from 9.780327 meters per
second-squared to 9.682524 meters per second-squared). The scientific community
was slow to accept other changes that were being noticed around the world.
On his deathbed, the last surviving
physicist of the Merlin incident sat up in his bed. “Dear God! They’re
still alive. Three of them are still alive. They’re aging much slower than we.”
His daughter stood and moved to his
side, dabbing sweat from his brow with a kerchief. “Who’s still alive, Dad?”
“We are,” said a woman’s voice. She
shimmered into view. The daughter screamed. Two nurses and a physician came
running. Everyone could clearly see the young woman. “Please, someone record
this. I’m on a limited time budget. We had to speed up my image in order for
you to understand us. We’ve been trying to contact you for couple of years, but
in your dimension, that appears to have been several decades.”
As the nurses and doctors present
captured on personal recorders—later played extensively on the Internet—she
went on to describe changes they had classified in her dimension, changes that
were likely to be true in every connected dimension. She strongly recommended
nationwide psionic testing and careful regulation of the newly initiated
abilities they would find.
Celeste knew the Ninue was herself
in another life. Thanks to Gawain, she knew Ninue had similar powers. Clearly,
like herself, Jacob, and Gawain, Ninue’s connection to the Merlin extended
across time. Once an individual had been subjected to the multidimensional
breach, the resulting bond was unbreakable. Experimentation with the Merlin
extension in her own dimension suggested that even the destruction of the
Merlin couldn’t close the rift. Those affected maintained their powers even
when the Merlin was shutdown and—most remarkably—even if they traveled back in
time to a when that didn’t have a Merlin. Once a witch, always a witch, it
seemed.
Why, then, did Ninue steal one of
the Merlin extensions? Why transport it back in time? Celeste felt certain the
answer had something to do with why he had chosen the name Ninue.
Celeste, slogging through the
increasingly muddy snow of the mid-afternoon melt, saw a landau drawn by a
black mare in the near distance. She sighed a relief, but had no idea how to
hail a cab in 1907 Minneapolis. Rather than shouting “Taxi!” she elected to
speed her stride and wave.
As she approached, the driver, a
tall gaunt man in black greatcloak and top hat, turned to face her. There was a
strange, silvery gleam to his eyes, and his smile was toothy—fanged, one might
say. He grinned, looking more ferocious than cheerful, and tipped his hat,
“Taxicab, Mum?”
Celeste stopped for a second. Why
couldn’t he be some pleasant little fat man? She sighed—smiled—and
climbed aboard the landau. “Thank you, yes. Could you take me to a good candle
shop?”
“Of course, Mum. The best. Only the
best.” He cracked his whip. The mare, turned, flashing angry red eyes at the
driver, and then lurched forward.
Did I see that right? Red eyes? Celeste
shook her head. I need to get some sleep. Celeste leaned back
against the plush leather cushion of the rear bench. Such a comfortable bench.
Gradually, between the soft embrace of the cushion, the soft swaying of the
landau, and the rhythmic clop of hooves on ice and cobbles, Celeste fell into a
deep, warm sleep.
**********
[CTW] The carriage’s rhythmic
embrace stopped, jolting her awake. She let the wool blanket fall from her
shoulders as she rubbed her eyes. She reached out and moved the shade to glance
out the window and was pleased to see the sun shining. She stared at the snow
and ice and a smile escaped her lips as she saw them sparkling under the sun’s
rays. I wonder if the St. Paul Winter Carnival
has started. It might be nice to see it if we’re here that long.
The carriage shifted to the
side and her body slid as well, ending her musing. Obviously, the driver was getting
down from his seat which meant they were at their destination. She started folding the wool blanket when the
driver knocked on the door and gently opened it.
Maybe it was the ray of sun
shining that hit him, or just his overall appearance, but she actually noticed
him. No one notices their cab driver, but she noticed him. He was very handsome
with dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and extremely
tall, nearly 6’3” she’d estimate. He wore a sack coat, club collar, and brushed-cotton
trousers—all clean, patch free and recently pressed. Stylish, impressive.
The driver cleared his
throat, and she blushed. She realized he
had caught her staring at him.
“Miss Celestnue we have
arrived,” he said.
“Excuse me, what did you
call me, sir?” she asked as she lay the folded wool blanket across the seat
next to her. His eyes followed her
actions, and the folded blanket won her a beautiful smile, as he placed the
step on the ground for her.
“Thank you, ma’am, and I
called you Miss Celestnue,” he replied.
“Some of us have been waiting for your arrival for days now, especially
the owner of this establishment.”
Celeste paused, her hand on
the carriage frame, “I’m sorry but do I know you?”
“No, milady, you do
not. My name is Gaheris.”
He
reached out and took her hand to help her down.
Celeste
shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment. Celestnue? She thought as she stepped down from the
carriage.
Once
firmly on the ground, she pulled her senses together and centered herself. “Let’s start over Gaheris, it was Gaheris
right? My name is Celeste, not
Celestnue,” she stated firmly.
He
leaned close to her and whispered. “No
ma’am, you were Celeste. However, when
you came through the portal into this dimension you became Celestnue.”
“I
what? This dimension?” she whispered back.
“Why
yes, you are no longer following the timeline of your dimension,” he replied
nodding.
“How
can this be? How do you know this?” Celeste asked.
“I
do not know how it can be, ma’am. It is what Gwyar says, and she is never wrong
about these things.”
Different
dimension. Different time line. All right.
Processing.
“So,
you are Gaheris, as in Sir Gaheris?” she asked.
“Oh
no ma’am, no sir to my title. It is a
family tradition to use such names.”
“Hummm,
I can understand that, but who is Gwyar?” she continued, trying to
record everything she heard on the mental blackboard in her head.
“I
have said enough, you need to speak with Gwyar,” he replied. “I’ve may have said
too much already.”
“I
don’t understand.”
Gaheris
smiled but said nothing as he helped her further onto the sidewalk.
She
glanced around the street and found that no one was traveling the sidewalks on
either side. How odd. The
storefront to which she had been delivered was old and but well cared for. The
windows were clean and the entry was clear of snow and ice. The sign above the
door read Candles and Herbs.
Celeste
turned back to face Gaheris. “What do I owe you?”
Gaheris
lifted her hand gently to his lips and bit her finger. Celeste jerked it back
yelping in pain. Viper-quick, he pulled her hand back to his mouth and sucked on
the wound.
She
yanked her hand back and, as a reflex, wrapped her other hand around the injured
spot. She paused. It no longer hurt. Celeste looked down at her finger. It no
longer bled. There were no holes or scars or any sign that she had ever been bitten.
Did I imagine that?
“Excuse me, Celestnue,”
Gaheris said. “I shall wait here until you return. Your fare is paid in full.”
“Um, thank you, Gaheris. I
think,” she replied and stared deeply into his blue eyes. Nothing of what she’d
just experienced showed in his baby blues. Perhaps
I really did imagine it.
The mare whinnied. Celeste looked upon the horse, and again, its
eyes flashed red. She knew she was not
imagining all this.
As Celeste watched the
mare, the air around the horse blurred.
When Celeste could once again see clearly, a large mongrel dog stood
where the mare had been. The harnesses lay
on the ground around it.
“Ruuuw,” barked the dog.
“Really Ragnell? Are you sure?” Gaheris asked.
“Ruuuw,” replied the dog.
“Excuse me Celestnue, but
it would appear that Ragnell is going in with you,” Gaheris said as if this was
the most common thing in the world. “Perhaps we should all go inside.”
“Ragnell?”
“My apologies, ma’am,” he
replied petting the dog that was now at his side. “Celestnue, this is Ragnell.
Ragnell, Celestnue.”
“Ruuuw,” said the dog.
Celeste stood, shaken for a
moment, not certain whether the dog had actually responded to Gaheris’s
introduction. Am I supposed to believe
this creature is sentient? Why am I so disturbed by this—this strangeness? I’m
a witch from the Twenty-Fourth Century, travelling with my ex-husband who
inadvertently turned himself into a cat. So, the nightmare turns herself into a
dog. Gaheris put his hand on her elbow and guided her into the shop.
“We have to get you in out
of the weather,” Gaheris said, “it’s about time for the wind to pick up. We don’t
want you freezing to death.”
Celeste stopped just inside
the doorway frozen. Her eyes glazed over
and she began to pace back and forth in the small area at the front of the
store. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. I’m here on a mission. Must keep the task in mind. Gawain and Jacob are
relying on me. Her pacing was cut short by an elderly lady, who stepped in
front of her and loudly snapped her fingers in front of Celeste’s eyes.
“Celeste,” she said firmly.
“What!” Celeste shouted.
The old lady continued in a
much softer voice, “Now, dearie, we don’t have time for this. You have to pull yourself together. You
really should be taking your elixir you know. We have a lot to discuss and not
a lot of time. Now, stop this nonsense and come with me.”
“I—I—I’m sorry,” Celeste
said, shaking her head and staring at the floor. “I left my elixir at home. And
who are you?”
“Oh my, how rude of me,
dear. My name is Gwyar, but you know
me as Gee-Gee,” she said.
“Gee-Gee. The only Gee-Gee
I know was Gawain’s mother,” Celeste said.
Celeste stared at Gwyar and
Gwyar stared back at her. Gwyar folded her hands in front of her and watched as
Celeste’s mind caught up with reality. Time seemed to slow as she stared into
Celeste’s eyes and waited. Just as she knew they would, Celeste’s eye lit up.
“You are Gee-Gee. You’re Gawain’s
mother,” she said, “but, Gawain’s mother died fifty years ago.” Gwyar continued
to stare silently at Celeste. “Wait a minute. Her body was never recovered. You didn’t die when that boat exploded. You
somehow survived. What the hell happened? Better yet, what the hell is going
on?”
“I don’t know what they
said happened to me in your dimension, dearie—our dimension, I should say. I was
somehow shifted here to where Gawain’s missing brother was stuck,” she said
pointing at Gaheris. “Actually this is where we’re all stuck.”
“Gawain’s brother. Harris?”
Celeste asked twisting a strand of her long red hair.
“Yes.” Gaheris replied
“But you’ve been missing
for, well since before Gee-Gee and Dad married,” Celeste blurted out.
“Quite,” Gwyar replied.
“So who or what is
Ragnell?” Celeste asked.
“Ragnell is Gawain’s
betrothed from the 23rd century, or at least she was before she
changed,” Gwyar said.
“But.”
“Dear, I have a lot of
information to share with everyone, but we are all in danger. You,” she said
pointing at Celeste, “have a long, dangerous journey ahead of you, and time is
not your friend. You are the key. You are the only witch I knew that studied
the witches of old, even those during the days of disbelief. You know their
rituals. You are the key to saving Gawain, which is ironic since you are also the
one trying to destroy him.”
“But—”
“Not now, dear,” Gwyar
said. “We have to get moving. I have already
packed the supplies you’ll need.”
Celeste stomped her foot, “Wait
a minute. How the hell do you know what
I need?” Celeste shouted.
“Calm down, dear” said the
old woman. “Perhaps you didn’t know, but precognition is one of my skills. I
know what you need. And the first thing you need now is to drink this.” Gwyar handed
Celeste a small vile.
Celeste glared at Gwyar for
a moment but reached up and took the vile.
Her hands shook as she uncorked and smelled it. She grimaced and tilted it
up, swallowing it down in one gulp. “Well, that surely is my elixir. Nothing else could smell that vile and yet taste good.”
Gwyar took the vile and sat
it on the counter then reached out and took both of Celeste’s hands. “I know you’re scared and overwhelmed. This
is a lot to take in, but you will be okay. Do you hear me? You can do this. You’ll
be okay.”
“Yes. I can handle this. I’ll
be fine. I’m just not comfortable with anyone else being in control. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”
“Think nothing of it dear,”
Gwyar said, letting go of Celeste’s hands. “Now, you need to look over this.” Gwyar
handed Celeste a large, filled-to bulging cotton sack.
Celeste opened it. It reeked, but she took inventory anyway:
candles—green, blue, red, three white, two silver, two gold, and a tiny
suspended candle holder with four prongs.
There were also several herbs and oils—Mugwort, jasmine, sandalwood,
parsley, dried mushrooms, cannabis,
nutmeg oil, Saint John’s wort oil, and a few others she didn’t recognize.
“Mother of all, Gwyar, what
are you preparing us for anyway?” Celeste asked.
“Here is the other bag,”
Gwyar replied handing her another sack, “look inside it also so you have the full
inventory imprinted in your memory.”
She took the other bag and looked
inside it. She found a small wooden box,
which she opened. It was full of elixirs. The bag also contained ruby-colored slippers
with teeth marks on them, a pocket watch with a heart imprinted on the front, a
small green silk pouch with three beans inside, and another small pouch, this
one black in color with a plain band ring inside it. There was some kind of inscription on the inside
it.
“What the—?”
“The future dear. All I will say now is that a lot of the items
we thought were fairy tale devices, are real relics, just not as we knew them.
Also, a lot of stories we thought were myths are—or have become—history. I
think Ninue is behind it. Now let’s go, time is ticking,” she said as she
headed for the door. “Ragnell, you are
going to have to shift again dear, I’m sorry,”
The mutt, who had been sitting
quietly in the corner, whined but got up and headed to the heavy wooden door
where Gaheris stood waiting.
“But I have more questions
about you and Gaheris and Ragnell,” Celeste protested. “I mean, Gaheris bit me, I think. And how can
Ragnell polymorph? And well—everything.”
“To the carriage, dear. We must
get safely to the carriage.”