Broken Talisman: Broken Realms, #7

By D.W. Moneypenny

After months of traveling to other realms, venturing through time and space, after battling dragons and dead men, facing down mystical cults and embracing her extraordinary abilities, Mara Lantern must now face the consequences of all that has gone before. 

Battles with her counterpart from an alternate universe have torn the fabric of reality, and she must endure a quest to repair the damage. If she fails, existence itself—or the life of her brother—may be the price she pays.
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Join Mara Lantern and her companions in a seven-volume science fiction adventure through reality, time and space, where they encounter everything from steampunk dream worlds to artificial humans, from dragons to disembodied spirits, where metaphysics is science and magic is just one belief from coming true.

Author's note: To enjoy the story, you should read this series in order.

Book 1: Broken Realms
Book 2: Broken Souls
Book 3: Broken Dragon
Book 4: Broken Pixels
Book 5: Broken Dreams
Book 6: Broken Spells
Book 7: Broken Talisman

This series was previously titled The Chronicles of Mara Lantern. Individual book titles and contents have not changed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nevertheless Publishing
• Release date: Jul 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393841159

D.W. Moneypenny

D.W. Moneypenny is a former newspaper journalist and technology manager who lives in Portland, OR. Drop by his website to sign up for free reads, discounts and the latest book releases.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Wielding a thick Magic Marker, Ping drew a large blue circle on the whiteboard under the illuminated light in the center of the empty warehouse floor. Mara sat on a mat on the cold concrete floor, looking up at him with an expression of pure impatience. Somewhere in the darkness, a furnace rattled to life and breathed warmth into the ductwork above. The air stirred as Ping turned around.

If you’re going to draw two more circles inside that one, there’s no point in explaining the Levels of Sentience to me again. Reality, Perception and Thought. I get it, Mara said.

Ping shook his head and wiped at the air before him, as if erasing a second invisible board. If you insist on pursuing this reckless course of action, we need to discuss the implications of traveling through Time.

I told you. I’m just observing. Sam’s Mara—Evil Mara—has been following us since this whole thing started. It’s the only way to prepare for when she shows up again. I have no intention of trying to change the past, Mara said.

My point exactly. You are about to embark on a course of action, the repercussions of which you do not understand, Ping said. If you understood the implications of traveling in Time, you would know that it is not possible to change the past.

Where did you get that notion? she asked.

"While you recovered from the transfer to your biological body, I completed my study of Ned Pastor’s book, Elements of Magic. The section on how the elements of Reality interact was particularly informative—especially the portion that explains how Time and Consequence relate."

If it is not possible to change the past, then why did my future self send my future niece back in Time to save me and to dispatch the dragon? Mara asked.

"Your future self had a memory of those events occurring. She wasn’t altering the past. She was fulfilling it, Ping said. It’s probably why she entitled the book she sent back with Hannah the Chronicle of Continuity. Your future self was ensuring that her past unfolded in the way she remembered."

How can you know that?

It’s easy to surmise her motivations once you understand the nature of Time travel. Remember what Hannah told you about the nature of Time?

She said Time was like a merry-go-round.

Ping nodded and pointed to the circle on the board. From her perspective, Time is a loop. For her Reality to come into being, she had to travel to the past to do the things your future self remembers.

But what if she had done something different? What if she had not touched the dragon and sent it back its own realm? Mara asked.

More was at play than the element of Time. There was also the element of Consequence. While traveling in Time appears to give you the option of altering events in the past, the fact that Hannah exists in the future and that your future self has a memory of those events are Consequences that cannot be altered in the past—because they exist in the future.

That doesn’t answer my question. What if she had failed to touch the dragon? What would have happened?

Assuming that sending the dragon back to its realm was a consequential event, it would have occurred in a different manner. But it would have occurred.

So the past can be changed as long as what you’re changing isn’t consequential.

"Anything you change cannot be consequential. Time will bend, alter itself to comply with Consequence. The loop will be closed. Hannah is part of our past, and, for that to be true, she must be part of our future."

How do you know what is consequential? Mara asked.

That’s the conundrum. If you travel to the past or exist in the present, there’s no way to know what’s consequential—because Consequence reveals itself in the future.

What if you travel forward in Time? Can you change the future?

What do you think? He challenged her to figure it out herself.

She hated when he did that. What’s the point of having a professor of metaphysics at your disposal if you have to do all the thinking? "People in the future might have a sense of what could be of Consequence in the past, but they wouldn’t know any more about how to alter their present than we do, she said. So, I would guess that you couldn’t change the future by traveling to it. Although you’d get a peek at what’s going to happen."

"A peek at what may happen, Ping corrected. If you travel to the future, you will encounter a Reality defined by the course of present events. The future is defined by the present. Therefore, if you wish to alter the future, it cannot be done in the future, it must be done in the here and now—in the present."

You’re giving me a headache.

But do you understand the point?

I think so. You can’t change the present by traveling into the past because Consequence will eventually correct any alterations you make. And the future is defined by the present, so if you are trying to alter the time line, going into the future is pointless.

Exactly. Now you must understand why this Time-travel notion of yours is a bad idea, he said.

It understand going into the past to change things is pointless, but, as I said before, that’s not why I’m going, Mara said. I want to do a little reconnaissance. How can we defend ourselves if we don’t understand what the other Mara is up to? And how better to find out what she might do than to travel into the past to see what she has done?

Not that I’m advocating it, but, if you wanted to know what she might do, why not travel into the future instead of the past? he asked.

I considered that, but the future is a big place. I don’t know how long it might be before we encounter her again. Do I go ten minutes or ten weeks into the future? Or ten years? On the other hand, pivotal points in the past I suspect might reveal her intentions.

Good point. How will you prevent from being detected?

Mara stood from the mat on the floor and brushed herself off. I’ve been giving that some thought, and I think I’ve come up with a solution. She waved her hands in front of her torso, and she disappeared.

Mara? Ping looked alarmed. Mara, where did you go?

I’m still here. Her voice came from the space above the mat.

You’ve made yourself invisible?

Yeah, but it’s a lot different than how they show it in the movies.

How so?

I’m not only invisible to you but to myself. I’m holding my hand in front of my face, but I can’t see it at all. It feels like being in the dark—you know it’s there, but you can’t see it.

It must be an odd sensation in the light.

She winked back into view. Cool, huh?

Impressive. Would you consider taking me and Sam along for this surveillance of yours? he asked.

She shook her head. The invisibility thing is a major advantage if I’m traveling alone, but, if I take you guys with me, I’d have to make you invisible as well—and that opens up a whole world of possible problems.

How so?

We’d not only be invisible to people we encounter in the past but to each other. If we got separated, it would be nearly impossible to find each other without getting discovered, she said. The last thing I need is to tell Mom I can’t find her son in the past because I made him invisible. I haven’t even told her that I got my biological body back.

What? We returned over a week ago. Why would you hesitate to tell her your body is no longer artificial?

It’s not the fact of it that concerns me. She’ll be happy I’m her flesh-and-blood daughter again, but I haven’t had a chance to talk to her alone. If Sam’s around, she’ll get the tabloid version of the adventure, featuring the orb-wielding acolytes, escaping burning buildings, metaphysical battles with Evil Mara, me blowing a hole in Sam’s chest, not to mention allowing Sam to be possessed by his dead counterpart. I’d rather finesse the details if I can.

Ping gave her a doubtful look.

What?

What’s to prevent Sam from telling your mother what happened when you’re not around? he asked.

I’ve been threatening him, and he seems appropriately afraid. Mara’s phone vibrated in her jeans pocket. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen. It was a text from her mother: Get home now. Mara rolled her eyes, sighed and shoved her cell back into her pocket.

What is it?

I suspect my brother has overcome his fear of me.

CHAPTER 2

On cold drizzly days like this, Mara missed the enclosed large back porch they had on their old house before the dragon had burned it to the ground. For the time being she had to suffer with the tiny stoop that extended from the side of the wood-frame house they rented until a new home could be built on their fire-scarred lot in Oregon City. She leaned against the door that led into the kitchen while she tugged on her left foot, trying to remove her sneaker without untying the laces. When the shoe would not relent, she plopped down on the damp concrete and loosened the shoes properly. Behind her the door swung open, and Mara twisted around to see her mother glaring at her.

Mara dislodged the shoe and wagged it at her mother, interrupting the verbal lashing she knew was coming. I know. I know. I should have told you that I got my biological body back, but I wanted to sit down and explain everything when we had some time alone.

Diana’s expression morphed from irritation to confusion. What are you talking about?

Sam poked his head past the frame of the door, above his mother’s shoulder, and said, She means she’s not a robot anymore.

What? Diana stepped onto the stoop and grabbed Mara’s arm, lifting her to her feet. Pinching Mara’s cheek, Diana pulled her daughter’s face toward her own and peered into her eyes. I still can’t tell the difference. When did this happen? And how? Why didn’t you tell me?

Mara waved toward the door. Can I get inside before the inquisition starts?

Diana stepped back, and Mara followed. Why are you being so defensive?

She’s afraid you’ll be mad when you find out that we crossed over to the realm of the Aphotis so her counterpart could regrow her biological body, Sam said.

Mara glared at him. I thought we agreed I would be the one to explain everything to Mom. After all, it is my body we’re talking about.

I’m not the one who told her, Sam said. He sat at the small round table tucked into the corner of the kitchen, picked up a spoon from a bowl of soup and slurped loudly.

Diana pointed to the chair next to Sam, indicating she wanted Mara to sit, which she did. While ladling another bowl of soup, Diana said, So explain. And please, whatever you do, don’t remove any body parts to make your point.

Sam laughed. She can’t disconnect her arm any longer—not unless she used a knife and made a big bloody mess.

Let your sister talk, Diana said as she placed a bowl in front of Mara and took a seat behind her own bowl.

We went to a realm where their knowledge of biomechanics allowed the Mara who lives there to restore my biological body using the original brain cells housed in the cranium of my artificial body, Mara said. After seeing your reaction to the whole situation and giving it a little thought, I knew there was no way I could leave things the way they were.

You did this because I was shocked about you being placed into a mechanical body? she asked.

Partly. But I also did it for myself. After talking to you, I realized there would be implications on my life I had not considered.

Like not being able to have children.

That and I was beginning to feel like a toaster or something. I knew the longer I stayed that way, the more I would grow to hate it. I had to get my body back—my real body.

So that’s it. You traveled to this other realm, and your counterpart grew you a biological body. Then you came back.

Right, Mara said, her eyes focused on her soup.

Nothing else happened?

Mara shrugged. Not really.

Seems like quite a nonevent for such a momentous accomplishment, getting your body back after all the adventure surrounding losing it. Diana glanced at Sam. Where were you when all this happened?

Sam’s gaze shifted to his sister, but she concentrated on her soup. As he was about to respond, Mara interrupted and said, I took him with me because my counterpart wanted to see him. Her Sam had died recently.

I see. And nothing interesting happened while you were there? she asked her son.

Well—

If you didn’t know about my body, Mara said, why did you send the snippy text message, telling me to get home?

You promised to help with the decorations. Remember?

Mara gave her a blank look.

Christmas is in two weeks, and it’s Sam’s first with us, Diana said.

My first Christmas ever, he added.

His mother nodded. And not a single decoration survived the fire. We have to go shopping for lights, decorations, tinsel and a tree. Then we have to set up everything.

Mara grimaced. I forgot all about it.

Thus the text message, Diana said. Now, back to this business of you getting your body back. Why are you avoiding telling me the details of what happened?

What details do you want to know? Mara asked.

Diana held up a hand and looked at Sam. Tell me what happened to Mara’s artificial body. Mara tried to say something, but Diana pressed her hand forward. I want him to answer.

Sam glanced at his sister, biting his lip while considering how to answer. A moment later, he sighed loudly and leaned back in his seat. It was practically destroyed in the battle with Evil Mara—the one from my realm—who was actually disguised as the leader of the coven.

Sam— Mara said.

Not a word, Diana cut her off. You had your chance.

The Mara from your realm? You mean your Mara—the one who was killed during the plane crash when you first crossed into this realm?

Yeah, the hag’s not dead. He seemed excited to talk about it. "She disguised herself as this African-American Vietnamese woman named NaRealm Tran—which actually spells Mara Lantern if you reshuffle the letters—who led a group of magical acolytes who blamed our Mara for destroying their faith when she captured the Aphotis. She kidnapped Mara’s counterpart from that realm and used her to lure us to this building in the middle of a swamp called the Arboretum. But it was a trap."

Diana glared at Mara. The Mara from Sam’s realm kidnapped the Mara from this body-replacing realm you visited. Is that correct?

Mara nodded.

And you had to go after Sam’s Mara to get the other Mara back, so she could grow you a new body.

Mara nodded again.

What happened when you went to this Arboretum in the swamp? Diana asked.

Mara held out her hand to Sam. You wanted him to tell the story.

Diana turned back to her son. Well? What happened?

Ping and I crawled through the ceiling while Mara and your counterpart—the Diana from that realm—climbed this spire thing to a suspended egg-shaped Apex hanging over the floor of the Arboretum. That’s where we found Tran—Evil Mara in disguise. First, she blinded me.

What? Diana gasped.

I could still see because the dead Sam was inside my head.

The dead Sam? What dead Sam?

My counterpart had died in the realm we were visiting. Remember? This is the realm where they keep the souls of their dead in lightbulbs, Sam said. During a séance, these green sparks flew into my eyes, and his soul sorta shared my body. Anyway, the sparks flew out of me after Tran blinded me and attacked her. We found the other Mara and escaped, but not before all of Mara’s skin and clothes were scoured off her artificial body. She looked like a real robot, all shiny and metallic.

Diana glanced at Mara, who nodded slowly while rolling her eyes.

After we got away, Tran caught up with us and attacked outside a restaurant. During the battle of the Maras, she possessed my body somehow, but Mara—this Mara—sorta left her damaged robot body like a ghost and plunged her hand into my chest, causing a big explosion that sent both of the Maras back to their own realms.

An explosion in your chest? Diana asked, while giving Mara a disapproving glare.

Yeah, it was a real mess, but Ping was there to cure me.

"Ping can cure people?

He got the ability from Denton Proctor, via Detective Bohannon, Mara interjected.

Diana’s jaw tightened. At this point in the story, Sam has been blinded, and an explosion has been set off in his chest, while he’s been possessed by his dead counterpart and his now-not-dead sister. And you have had your body irreparably damaged while being blown back into your—this—realm during a battle with said not-dead sister. Correct?

Mara nodded.

How in the world did you ever get your biological body back? Diana asked.

The Mara we rescued—the one from the realm we visited—used the Chronicle to come here and retrieve Mara. Then she grew the new biological body.

Diana’s eyes narrowed. When you were blown back into this realm, where did you go?

The other Mara said she found this Mara in the living room, but you weren’t around at the time, Sam said.

Diana’s eyes rounded. Imagine if you had just appeared out of thin air in front of me. I’d have had a heart attack.

Mara shook her head. You would not have recognized me. By that point, I looked like a casualty from a robot war movie.

For real, Sam said. He dropped his spoon into his empty bowl with a clatter. Mara wondered when he had had the time to consume his dinner while running his mouth so much.

Thank goodness for small favors, Diana said. To her son, she said, Why don’t you go upstairs and find something to do for half an hour while your sister and I have a talk. Then we’ll run out for decorations.

Sam stood and caught his sister’s dour gaze. You brought it up. I didn’t. He left the room with a shrug.

After the sounds of Sam trampling up the stairs had faded, Mara turned to her mother and said, You’re mad at me.

To be honest, I’m a little scared.

Scared? Of what?

Of the lasting damage these experiences are having on you and your brother. The level of trauma the two of you have suffered is bound to have an effect in the long term.

While Mara understood her mother’s worries about the dangers they had faced, Mara was taken aback at what sounded like Diana’s concern for her children’s psychological health. Despite the dramatic nature of their recent adventures, it hadn’t occurred to Mara how their psyches were threatened. She and her brother seemed pretty stable in that regard, all things considered.

We’re not suffering from post-traumatic stress or anything like that, Mara said. I don’t think anyone’s getting messed up—mentally—over this stuff. Where’s this coming from?

I ran into Abby’s father at the grocery store today, Diana said. He says she hasn’t been herself lately and wanted some advice on how to help her.

I’ve been meaning to check in on her, Mara said. What did you tell him?

I recommended three therapy options for him to consider—art therapy, music therapy and nature therapy. He said he would talk to her.

Ab’s not going to like the sound of those. She’s always been weirded out by your New Age ways.

She must be getting over it because Bert called a while ago and said she’s agreed to go to one of them.

"Really? I’m shocked. She must be way under the weather to consider alternative therapy, any therapy for that matter. Which one did she choose?"

"She didn’t. Bert said she would only agree to go if you selected."

"Me? Why would I select Abby’s therapy?"

Because she won’t do it unless you go too.

CHAPTER 3

Sam sat in the back seat of Mara’s Subaru Outback, examining a large cellophane-covered candy cane, while his sister navigated the few blocks of residential Oregon City it took to get to Abby’s house. They hadn’t spoken a word since leaving their driveway, and the silence was bothering him. Are you mad at me? he asked.

Mara glanced into the rearview mirror and said, No more than usual. Why do you ask?

You’re not talking.

"I thought it was your role in life to fill dead air. Why aren’t you talking?" she asked.

I don’t know. You’re sending out negative vibes, and I didn’t want to set you off by asking silly questions.

Mara smiled and said, "The vibes you sense are irritation at Mom for arranging a therapy session at the speed of light. Who arranges an art therapy session for the next day two weeks before Christmas? And why do I have to go to therapy and you get to go to computer programming classes? I’m also a little nervous to see Abby again. She’s been through a lot, and it’s all my fault. Anyway, what’s your silly question?"

He thought about it for a moment and asked, What is Christmas?

What? She glanced back at him with a puzzled expression.

This Christmas stuff everyone is talking about all of a sudden. You and Mom drag a tree into the house and put lights and sparkly stuff on it. Then you decorate the living room and hang a doughnut made from branches on the front door. You guys seemed really excited about it. I looked it up online, but I don’t get the concept. I know it has something to do with a guy called Santa Claus and someone else named Jesus. Are they the same person? Their pictures don’t look the same. And what do reindeer and jingle bells have to do with it?

You’ve never heard of Christmas—or Jesus, the son of God? she asked. Wait a minute. I distinctly remember you mentioning Christmas to Mom while we were hiking in the swamp on the way to the Arboretum.

I had heard of it by then, and I guess a part of me wanted to see if that version of Mom knew about it—whether it existed in the realm of the Aphotis, since they had different religious beliefs. She didn’t seem to think it was a strange concept, but I never got around to asking about it with everything thing else that was happening.

And Ping has been baking fruit cakes for the holidays. What did you think that was all about? Mara asked.

How am I supposed to know?

You could have simply asked him.

I suppose. But I didn’t. When he’s at the bakery, he’s always busy trying to catch up, probably because he’s been gone a lot lately.

I just don’t understand how you don’t know about Christmas. Are you jerking me around? Is this some kind of prank?

Sam rolled his eyes, extended his right arm over the seatback and pointed to his upturned forearm at the tattoo of a snake curling around an obelisk. I come from a realm where people worship lizards and reptiles. Remember? As far as I know, there was no Christ in my realm, at least not one who became the center of a religion—therefore, no Christmas.

I get the point. You didn’t have a problem with Halloween. Why didn’t you say something last night while we were decorating? Mom would have loved to explain it to you, albeit in her heathenistic New Age way.

You guys seemed so into the whole thing. I didn’t want to offend you.

Now he gets diplomatic, she said as she pulled her car into Abby’s driveway, shifted into Park and swiveled around to face her brother. Can we hold off on the Christmas discussion until tonight? Mom and I will explain everything. I just don’t want to get into you being from a different realm in front of Abby. She may be uptight about the metaphysical stuff and the trauma she’s been through.

Okay, he said, glancing over Mara’s shoulder through the windshield. Here she comes.

Mara spun around to see Abby sauntering down the driveway, her arms swaying loosely at her side, looking relaxed. Her short blond bob was a little shorter than normal, like she’d just gotten it trimmed. She had a gleam in her eye and a subtle smirk to her grin, which Mara recognized as her friend’s mischievous look.

Abby’s revenge. She’s going to therapy to get back at me.

Having been friends since they were small children, Mara took that as a good sign and relaxed a little.

Abby slipped into the passenger seat, like she had a thousand times before, and said, How’s it hanging, dude?

Like nothing had happened.

Without waiting for a response, Abby twisted in her seat, while pulling the seat belt across her torso. To Sam, she said, What’s up, brother from another mother?

I’m from the same mother. She was just a different version of the same person, metaphysically speaking, he said. When Mara glared into the rearview mirror, he went silent for a second, then added, But we’re not supposed to talk about that.

His sister rolled her eyes as she put the car in Reverse and backed out of the driveway.

"All right, what can we talk about?" Abby asked, scanning Mara.

I have a question I’d like to ask, Sam said.

Sam, I told you that we would discuss it later, Mara said.

Let him ask his question, Abby said. "You really are uptight. Your mom told Dad that she was concerned about the effect all this mumbo jumbo you’ve gotten into is having on your mental health. Just mellow out."

Mara sighed. She didn’t say anything about mumbo jumbo to your father.

She inferred it.

She implied it.

Yes, she did. Abby smiled at the exchange. It was an inside joke, a bit of silly verbal jujitsu she used when they were kids to win arguments with Mara, who was a nimbler debater. Abby knew Mara’s willingness to participate in this banter meant the guardrails were off what she was willing to discuss. On the other hand, Sam remained quiet, his eyes shifting back and forth between the two in the front seats, sensing their cues but not knowing how to interpret them.

Ask me your question, realm boy, Abby said.

Maybe I should just shut up and let you girls talk, he said. I don’t want to cause any trouble.

With a hint of surrender, Mara said, Go ahead. Ask your question. She pressed the accelerator as they sped down the ramp onto Interstate 205 North to Portland, thinking it was a good metaphor for letting momentum take the whole situation where it wanted to go.

Sam held up the large candy cane. Mom gave this to me as I was going out the door. Is it some kind of toy? What am I supposed to do with it?

Mara laughed.

Abby looked a little confused. What? What do you mean?

Sam wagged it at her. What is this thing? It looks like some kind of tool. And why is it wrapped like this? He pinched the cellophane and crinkled it.

Abby looked at Mara, who shook her head and shrugged. You wanted him to ask, so answer him.

Abby pointed at it and said, "That is a candy cane. Have you never seen one?"

It’s candy? he asked.

Yes, and, before you bite into it, please unwrap it, Abby said. I still have nightmares about you mauling that poor banana a couple months back.

It’s a cane? He held it by the crook and poked the tip into the seat next to him, pantomiming walking with the stick. Why would you make candy in the shape of something crippled people use to walk? Isn’t that kind of insensitive? And why would Mom think I’d want something like this?

It’s a Christmas treat, nimrod.

Mara cut in, speaking to Abby. He doesn’t know about Christmas. I just found out, like, thirty seconds ago. We spent all last night decorating, and he doesn’t say a word while Mom’s around. This morning, he’s all forty-questions about it.

Abby held up her phone and tapped on it for a few seconds. "Hmm. Says here that candy canes were invented in Germany, like, three hundred years ago. The white candy represents the purity of Christ, while the red stripe represents the blood of Christ."

Sam’s eyes widened, and he held it out to her. That’s disgusting. Here. You take it. I don’t want it.

She ignored him and read on. The peppermint flavoring came later. Some say the shape of the cane is supposed to mimic a shepherd’s hook.

What do sheep have to do with anything?

She lowered the phone. Man, you are way overthinking this. It’s a piece of candy. Your mom gave you a Christmas treat. Just tear off the wrapping and eat it. Who cares what it’s supposed to symbolize? I think I read somewhere that the shape of a traditional Valentine’s heart is supposed to be a woman’s butt. That doesn’t stop people from giving them out by the truckloads in February.

I thought it was sorta like cleavage, Mara said. The heart-shape, I mean.

Valentine’s? he asked.

Abby was about to respond, but Mara raised a hand from the steering wheel, made a cutting gesture and said, You’ll be at this for hours if you let it.

Maybe you’re right, Abby said. She turned to Sam. Ask your mom about it when she has some time to go over the whole thing. I probably lack the necessary patience and empathy to explain the true meaning of Christmas.

Amen, Mara said.

Sam held up the candy cane and ripped the clear cellophane from it. As he raised it to his mouth, Abby said, I would suggest you—

He chomped down on the cane’s crook with a loud crunch, breaking it off and pulling it into his mouth with his lips. Muffled grinding sounds filled the air.

—lick it first.

Sam fell back against the seat, made a gagging sound, opened his mouth and extended his debris-covered tongue. He arched his back and writhed, while waving his hands in front of his face.

What’s wrong? Abby asked.

He tried to respond through the chewed-up bits, spitting a few onto the floor behind the front seats.

"What did you say? Paper? You took the wrapping off," she said.

"No, vapor, Mara said. He said vapor."

In my nose! Sam yelled. He lurched against the door next to him, rolled down the window and spat out the candy. Wiping his tongue with his right palm, he flopped back against the seat, exhaled loudly and shook his head. "Eck."

You’ve never eaten peppermint? Abby asked.

It tastes like toothpaste but way more intense, he said. "I still don’t understand what it has to do with sheep or crippled people, or what they have to do with Christmas."

Abby settled back into her own seat. Sheesh, you are one weird little alien.

I’m not an alien.

"If they can call people from other countries aliens, I think that you qualify, realm boy."

CHAPTER 4

After dropping off Sam at a nondescript office park, where his computer programming classes were held, Mara navigated west through heavier-than-normal morning traffic toward the former dance studio on Hawthorne, where her mother said the so-called art therapy session would be. Abby was silent as they approached the area, while Mara scanned the storefronts.

Abby noticed and asked, Are you not sure where we’re going?

It’s not that, Mara said, glancing back and forth between the car ahead and the surrounding buildings. I think an art gallery is around here, called Obscure, where my friend Cam showed some work. Maybe we could stop by and see if any of his paintings are still on display.

Cam, the guy from the realm where people have artificial bodies? Abby asked, getting a nod from Mara. The gallery’s two blocks ahead. That’s where he got nailed by the taxi.

Mara slammed on the brake, sending both of them lurching forward in their seats. She stared at her friend and asked, How do you know that?

You want to get into it now? Right here in the middle of the street? Abby asked.

The car behind them honked, causing Mara to jump. She raised her foot off the brake and pressed the gas. Just tell me how you know about Cam.

I was there, the night he ran from the gallery, into the street and got nailed by that taxi. His face-plate, or whatever you call it, fell off into the street and caused quite a scene. Our arrival in the gallery is what scared him, why he ran. That glowing ball of blue freaked out a lot of people when we appeared somewhere.

"We? Our arrival? Who was with you?" Mara asked.

Abby looked out the passenger window, as if something fascinating had caught her attention.

It caused a long-enough pause that Mara grew concerned. Ab? You okay? she asked.

I’m not sure. That’s not true—I know who was there. I just don’t like thinking about it.

About what?

Him, them. I was never alone. He was always there. She was always lurking too, just out of sight.

Mara spotted the old dance studio and pulled up to the curb across the street. She shifted the car into Park, cut the ignition and turned to Abby. Who is he? And who is she?

"Who do you think? Prado, the zealous psycho, who thought he could rewrite Reality by becoming