Chapter Six

Griffin gave me a hard shove behind him. “Breach,” he yelled, drawing his sword. “Jess, run.”

I didn’t. Instead, I stumbled back a few steps and watched the troop scramble to his side. They stood shoulder to shoulder, weapons at the ready, Griffin in the center. The bulge spread along the wall and formed a perfect rectangle, about nine feet high by six feet wide.

“Steady,” he barked.

Behind me came resonant tapping from Danya’s drum and the low murmur of her chant. For a few seconds, the bulge retracted and then it burst forth again, glistening with an oily sheen. “They’re coming,” she cried, sweat beading her forehead. “The breach is too powerful. The energy of the spirit drum can’t close it.”

A tiny black slit appeared in the center of the rectangle. I gaped in horror as it widened an inch and then two, creeping along from top to bottom, a jagged scar ripping through time and space. Wispy vapor trails oozed from the interior. I coughed at a burning electric stench reminiscent of shorting wires.

The slit began to draw apart like a malevolent curtain, revealing a hazy, glassy surface. Sparks crackled at the rim, wafting more of the pungent odor, and a low hum filled the air. The haze evaporated, and my heart sank to my knees. Five carvers crowded on the other side of the pane. Their claws opened and closed with an eerie clicking noise, as if anxious to begin their bloody task.

My pulse raced. I was no military strategist, but even I knew this was a terrible place to mount a defense. Nearly the height of the rectangle, carvers towered over the guards on foot. Lyrs provided an advantage, but they couldn’t maneuver in this tight space. Neither could the warbirds, shrieking in frustration from the rafters.

A stinging blast of air gusted from the slit and bit at my skin. Behind the carvers, dim lights flickered. An object in the background moved with subtle clanks and an eerie mechanical hiss, but their massive bodies blocked a clear view.

The carvers’ hands bent and flexed. Five sets of claws pressed against the transparent opening. Sparks spewed from the tips as they began to force their way through the breach. They threw back their heads and emitted an unearthly howl of triumph. A shrill command resounded in my head. Kill them.

The darkling.

“Kill them,” echoed the rasping cry of the carvers.

“No!” I shouted. A fiery ember sprouted deep within me and fanned out through my limbs. My hands burned like smoldering coals, and a crimson glow bathed the breach. The carvers bellowed with rage and fell back to the other side.

Kill them, shrieked the darkling.

“No,” I said again. “Leave them alone.”

I see you, the darkling spoke in my mind. Paralyzing fear stole my breath.

A second voice whispered, I am here for you. It wasn’t harsh, but melodic and forceful. More heat built in my hands. I gawked in disbelief as my skin glowed with crimson fire. Liquid light poured from my fingertips, slamming into the breach. Color washed across the transparent surface, deepening the tint from crimson to blood-red, and the glassy pane clouded over. The monsters’ blurry shapes bent double, howling in torment. The haze thickened, obscuring the view on the other side.

The stone! The darkling shrieked in frustrated rage.

“Jess, the Rose Stone calls to you,” cried Danya. “Seal the breach.”

“How?” I said, panicking. As if in answer to my will, the light diffused across the entire rectangle. The edges began to pull toward the center, knitting together the two sides. My arms and legs trembled with the strain of holding onto the power.

Open, screamed the darkling. The carvers were mere shadows now, pounding on the glassy surface.

Bang, bang, bang.

The ground under my feet vibrated with each hammering blow.

“Jess,” said Melanie.

I looked around. “Melanie?”

“The MRI is finished.”

The cascade of crimson light spilling from my hands decreased from a flood to a broken stream, but one third of the breach remained. “No, I’m not ready,” I shouted. “Griffin needs me. The guard is in danger.” A final blast of light shot from my fingertips and struck the wall.

“Jess, open your eyes,” said Melanie. Her voice sounded closer now.

Rose light surrounded me, filling my mind, clouding my vision. My body felt light. The ground dropped beneath my feet, and I flailed my arms to keep from falling. “No, please, not yet. I can’t go.”

“Jess!” shouted Griffin. He barreled past the guards and lunged for me. I touched his hand. “Hold on,” he said, but my fingers slipped away, and I fell, fell, fell into the dark.

No sights, no sounds, no smells, just dark. In the distance sparked a flashing wire.

You cannot run. You cannot hide. I will follow.

****

“Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up.”

My eyelids shot open, and my stomach churned with a whirling sensation as if I rode a roller coaster at breakneck speed. After a deep breath, the nausea settled. The rose light had disappeared, and everything around me was white and shiny. “Where am I?” I sputtered. “Griffin is in trouble.”

“Griffin? It’s Melanie. I’m sorry to spook you. The scan is finished. Don’t move yet, the table hasn’t retracted.”

I fought a swell of panic, trying to focus my muddy thoughts. “Wait,” I babbled. “The breach, carvers…” The table slid from the MRI tube into the high-tech surroundings. Reality crashed in on me, followed by the frigid clutch of despair. I was back.

Melanie ran into the room with the technician. “Hey, it’s okay. Do you know where you are?”

“What? Yes, the MRI.” I inhaled slowly to still my pounding heart and sat up. “You woke me in the middle of a nightmare.”

“Take it slow,” the technician cautioned. “You might feel a little dizzy.”

“I’m okay now.”

Melanie didn’t seem convinced. “You don’t look okay. You’re very pale.”

“Really, I’m fine.” I forced a smile. How could I explain what happened when I didn’t understand myself? “What did the scan show?” Melanie shot a glance at the booth, and a sinking feeling enveloped me. “That bad?”

“Get dressed, and I’ll meet you outside. Owen will talk to us in his office.”

I nodded numbly and went to the changing room. A mirror hung on the wall, and I stared at my reflection. “The Commonwealth is fiction,” I whispered. “It didn’t happen. Griffin can’t get hurt. He isn’t real. Neither are the others. Look at your clothes.” I ran my hands down the sides of the hospital scrubs. “The riding gear is gone. Explain that, if it’s not a fantasy.”

I couldn’t. Nothing made sense. The claw marks had vanished from my arm as if they’d never been, as if they were part of a dream. Then I closed my eyes and recalled the sensation of unchained power, the touch of Griffin’s hand, the fear in his voice as I slipped away.

Determination grabbed hold of me. Every doubt fled, and I shoved the world of logic aside. So what if the trip to another world seemed like the crazy delusion of a damaged brain. No rational answers existed for what happened, but I didn’t care and embraced a new truth. My truth and no one else’s. The Commonwealth of the Rose was no hallucination. It existed as surely as the hospital’s sterile confines, and a wondrous thing happened when the breach tried to open. The Rose Stone spoke to me, and a mysterious force responded to my command. I clenched my fists. I had to return. I had to see Griffin again.

I sagged against the mirror. I had no clue how.

Melanie waited in the hallway. “No hints?” I said with a weak smile.

She took my arm, and for once I didn’t complain about needing a steadying hand. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”

Dr. Turner stood in his office. He motioned me to a chair and pulled up the scan on the laptop. I had zero desire to look but forced myself to peer at the monitor. The tumor’s shape had been burned into my memory. It was round in the center with tendril-like offshoots, bringing to mind a mutant starfish from a campy 1950s science fiction film. “I don’t need to be a doctor to see the tumor has gotten bigger since the last MRI.”

“Yes, and faster than expected, which explains the severity of symptoms,” said Dr. Turner. “The location isn’t the best.” With his finger, he made a circle on the screen inside the tumor, cutting off the tendrils. “However, if the medication can remove these parts and reduce the mass in size to no greater than this, then we can operate. I won’t lie, it’s high risk. In order to get there, I have to use a much higher dosage. The aftereffects at such a concentration are unknown. This is a harsh drug, and since the procedure is in the testing stage, you’d be the worst-case patient…” His voice trailed away, and he shot a sympathetic look at Melanie.

“And the meds may kill me,” I said. “Or the tumor may kill me before the meds shrink it or I could die on the operating table. I understand. It’s a longshot, and no guarantees, but I’ll take it.”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way,” said Melanie.

“The good news is if the medication works, the results are immediate,” said Dr. Turner. “Within a few days, we’ll know one way or the other.”

“When do we start?”

“The day after tomorrow. The drug must be given intravenously in the hospital. The dose takes several hours, so you’ll be there for a while.”

I stared at my hands. “I have a painting to finish.”

“After this is over, you’ll have all the time in the world to paint,” said Melanie kindly. “Have you had any more hallucinations?”

“No.” I lied.

Melanie eyed me askance. “You were talking to Griffin again.”

I forced a smile. “Mel, it was a dream, and then I woke up and he disappeared.”

She folded her arms and eyed me askance.

“Okay,” I admitted hesitantly. “I saw a rose tint inside the tube. No big deal.”

“Do you see it now?” asked Dr. Turner.

I gazed around. The room was normal, and I hid my disappointment. “No.”

“Don’t look so disappointed,” teased Melanie.

Dang.

“From the location of the tumor, I expect hallucinations more complex than color changes,” mused Dr. Turner. “No voices? No objects or people suddenly appearing and disappearing. I can give you additional medication for that.”

“I’m good.”

Melanie narrowed her eyes. “ ‘I can’t wake up yet. Griffin needs help.’ ” She mimicked my panicked urgency. “That sounded pretty intense for a dream.”

Dr. Turner gave me a sharp look, and I shifted in the chair. “Okay, yes, I have been seeing things.”

“That concerns me. I’ll increase the dosage of the anti-hallucinogen.”

“Is that necessary?” I said, alarmed.

Melanie rolled her eyes. “Do you prefer to run into traffic because you thought you were being chased by a bear?”

“I see your point.”

Dr. Turner patted my hand. “We’re in this together, Jess, and I’ll fight for you. I’ll copy Mel with the appointment details and send the new prescription to the pharmacy.”

“Thanks, Doc. I appreciate everything you’ve done.” We left his office, and I nudged Melanie. “He called you Mel.”

She blushed. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“The clerk said he was single. Did you ask him if he was seeing anyone?”

“That hardly entered our conversations. The focus is on you, remember?”

“I’ll ask him and say you’re interested.”

Melanie gaped at me in open-mouthed horror. “Don’t you dare.”

“You look out for me. I’ll look out for you. We’ve been doing that since we were kids. Don’t expect me to stop now.”

“Don’t hassle Owen. We concentrate on your health, not my love life. Deal?”

I hooked my arm around hers. “Deal.” Until the time is right, and then I’m hassling you instead.

We stopped at the pharmacy for the medication, and then Melanie dropped me at the loft. I declined her offer of lunch, using the excuse that I wanted to work on the painting. In truth, I wasn’t hungry. After all, I filled up on camp rations a short while ago.

I placed the new anti-hallucinatory pills in the medicine cabinet. I needed to be alone with my thoughts and had no intention of taking drugs that interfered with whatever tenuous connection I had with the Commonwealth of the Rose. I massaged an aching twinge in my legs. The weakness had crawled back in, but despite the limp, I paced the floor, and ignored the pain medication, too. I needed a clear head to process what I’d seen and felt in the MRI tube.

The Commonwealth was real, and so was Griffin. Somehow, someway, I bounced between worlds, but the belief did nothing to ease my mind. Was it an alternate universe, a different dimension, an alien landscape? What did it matter? I had no way to return.

I limped to the easel and touched the rose on Griffin’s chest. “Are you okay?” I whispered to him. “I left you in quite a spot.”

The only voices were muted and coming from the open window as pedestrians on the street below mingled with the traffic blare. I selected a brush, but my hand refused to hold steady. I closed my eyes and exhaled, recalling Griffin’s touch. The pain dulled; the shaking eased. I dipped the bristles in black and slashed an angry line down the canvas. My own breach. I dabbed more paint, outlining the shadows. The darkling had seen me, I was sure, and marked me as a threat.

You cannot run. You cannot hide. I will follow.

Despite being warm and dry, I shivered. Here, sturdy walls surrounded me. But what about Griffin and the others? The carvers fell back, but they’d try again unless the breach completely sealed. The voice of the Rose Stone spoke to me and activated a wondrous power. I could almost feel it again, surging from my fingertips. I rubbed my palms together. Almost, but not quite.

I shook my head. No, what happened in the ruin was different. That extraordinary ability didn’t flow from me. It flowed through me as if I were a conduit. I scraped the canvas and slathered paint over the crack, obliterating it completely. With a brush, I added a delicate crimson rose. “Hah! Try to force a way through that.”

I rubbed my eyes and stepped back to study my work. The new addition felt right, unlike my head which pounded. “Tumor, tumor, go away,” I muttered, massaging my temples. “Kill me on another day.”

Even the small amount of energy needed to clean the brushes was an effort. I got a bottle of water from the fridge and hobbled to the sofa, easing my legs onto the cushions with a groan. A yawn escaped my lips. “Nap time.” I swallowed a pain pill and then leaned back and closed my eyes, my mind drifting. With no surprise, my thoughts landed on Griffin. I pictured him in the ruin, but for some reason his face peered down at me from a different angle. Lines of worry etched his brow.

“You’re safe,” I whispered.

“Safe,” he echoed, and the lines eased. “And you?”

“I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s my duty to worry.”

“I release you from that burden.”

“I refuse—and it is no burden, Jess. It is an honor.”

Griffin’s image dissolved, and my body grew heavy with the lethargy of sleep. The headache vanished. I was warm and relaxed and felt better than I had in ages. I had a painting to complete, Dr. Turner offered hope, and the image of Griffin lifted my spirits. I was certain the Commonwealth of the Rose hadn’t fallen in my absence. Would it stay safe as long as my mind gave it life? If so, I’d fight for that.

I drifted into peaceful slumber. No thoughts, no questions, no pain.

A sparking wire snaked through the blackness, bobbing and weaving, testing the surroundings with unflinching intent. Where? Where? it called, pressing forward in a relentless march. The wire halted, and the tip swung toward me. I tried to run, but my legs turned traitor and refused to move.

There! The sparking tip shot forward, stabbing me between the eyes. I know you now.

The world exploded in flames.

My eyes shot open, and I bolted upright on the couch, heart hammering against my ribs. I clutched my shirt, damp with sweat, and drew in a deep lungful of air. “Just a dream,” I gasped out. “I’m home. I’m safe.” The sunlight through the windows had faded, I’d slept for several hours. I switched on the lamp on the end table and rubbed the back of my neck, waiting for my heartbeat to slow to a respectable thump. That was scary, the worst nightmare I’d ever had.

I jumped at a knock on the door and then steadied myself and called a shaky, “Come in.”

Melanie entered holding a pizza box. “You refused lunch, so I brought dinner. You look a little groggy. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I just got up. I worked on the painting and then took a nap.”

Melanie put the pizza box on the kitchen table and set out plates and glassware. I sat in a chair, and she poured me an iced tea. “Tony’s Pizzeria?” I said, opening the box. “That’s new. You always go to Angelo’s.” I took a deep appreciative whiff. “Wow, it smells good.”

“Owen mentioned it.”

“See, he’s attracted to you. A man doesn’t share his favorite pizza place with just anybody.”

“Zip it and eat.”

I took a bite. “Much better than Angelo’s. Send Dr. Turner my regards.”

We polished off most of the pie, and Melanie cleared the table. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said as I walked her to the door. “Oh, by the way, I remembered where I heard of Griffin and the Rose Stone. They were both in your book.”