Dangerous Designs (7 page)

There'd been a sense that she'd been destined to find it. That she had a connection with it. Not that she was going to tell him that. "Anyways, I've always done artwork of some kind, only...after getting that pencil, it's like I've been obsessed." She slid a sidelong glance his way. "I mean really obsessed. I don't notice when I'm drawing, but it's like I go into a trance or something. I cover every available space on any page. Sometimes, it's just doodles and other times it's really cool stuff. One of the drawings was a door."

Eric leaned closer, his eyes narrowing at her words. "What kind of door?"

She shrugged. "It was scrunched up, so I redrew it on a clean sheet."

She paused.

"And?" Impatience prodded him up off the rocks to pace around before coming back to crouch down in front of her. "What happened next?"

Storey puzzled over his attitude. But she'd started so she might as well carry on. "I got mad one day because the drawings wouldn't leave me alone. They wanted me to draw, draw and draw some more. I felt like I was losing it. Or that they were controlling me." She took a deep breath. "I threw the book down on the floor in my room. I had been on my bed and I was so frustrated, so angry...I don't know...anyways I stomped on it...and that's when things got even weirder."

"Weirder?" His gaze caught hers and held on. She couldn't break the link, it was so intense. "How?"

She took a deep breath. "When I jumped onto my book, I went through my bedroom floor. One simple hop off my bed and I ended up inside Bankhead Mine."

***

So, that was it. Eric sat back, stunned at the sheer simplicity of the steps that led to her crossing the veil and entering his world. At the same time, it scared the hell out of him. If it happened once, or twice in this case, it could happen anytime with anyone. Not good. If anyone else had picked the stylus up, the stylus probably would have remained dormant. However, with Storey being an artist, an open young mind, the stylus had a perfect tool to get it home.

He studied Storey's face. She'd dropped her gaze to the rocks at her feet. Ashamed? She appeared to be over her panic attack and now sat looking curiously embarrassed. He still had trouble reading her facial expressions.

"So, now that I've told you, I'm heading home." She sent him a quick uncertain glance before hopping off the big rock.

"Wait."

Hesitating, she stalled, her back to him. "What now?"

"I believe you." He walked around to stand in front of her.

The impatience drained from her face as hope filled her eyes. "You do? Really?"

"Yes."

They stood and looked at each other for a long moment, the beginning of acceptance sparking between them.

"Don't suppose you'd care to demonstrate, would you?" Eric asked.

A half frown crossed her face. She glanced at the sky and then back at him. "Only if you know how to unlock the damn door from the inside."

Right. That's how she'd gotten out both times – he'd helped her. He looked back the way they'd come, his mind spinning with possibilities. "Maybe."

"Maybe, isn't good enough. I don't relish the idea of being stuck in there any longer than I was today." She continued in a barely audible voice, "And preferably not that long."

"Can I see the book and the pencil, if you don't mind?"

She studied his face. "I suppose that's okay. We have to go to my house then."

He motioned toward the path and grinned. "After you."

***

Storey didn't know how she'd ended up so involved with Eric. Every time she turned around – there he was. If only the other girls could see her now. Not that they'd believe their eyes. They'd barely believed it when she dated Jeff. Still, her heart lurched at the thought of her old boyfriend. He'd wanted her to move on.
He
certainly had. The corner of her mouth drooped.

"Tell me what happened today."

Presuming he meant the jump to the mine, she explained the series of events that led up to getting lost again. "I thought I could find the door on my own this time." She took several more steps, before continuing. "I paced off specific distances and marked the floor with chalk to stop me from getting lost." She shrugged carelessly. "Somehow, it didn't work out that way."

"Plans rarely do." The cryptic tone of his voice confused her. Studying his face didn't give her a clue to his thoughts.

At her front door, she stopped. Who was home? It was Saturday, so her mom would be home. Annalea, her assistant, would be minding the store again today. "My mom is here."

"Is that a problem?"

She groaned. "All the time, just not for the reason you might think."

"Oh?"

Refusing to answer, Storey opened the front door.

"Storey? Where have you been? I thought I'd let you sleep in only to find you weren't even in bed—" Her mom, dressed in her typical lounging pant set, stopped her all-out flight down the stairs as her gaze landed on Eric. Flustered, she finished descending and fluffed her hair.

Storey rolled her eyes.

"Hi. I'm Storey's mother. Nice to meet you."

Eric smiled down at her. "I'm Eric. A friend of Storey's."

Stepping back, Storey watched the two interact. No surprise registered in Eric's voice or face as he looked at her Wiccan mother. But then he might not know about her religious beliefs. Wasn't this an important weekend for her, too? In the back of her mind, nearly forgotten under the weird mine stuff, the memory of her mom mentioning a special ceremony poked at her.

"How nice. Please come in. Storey, where were you this morning?"

Storey stiffened slightly. "Same as yesterday. I woke up early and walked through the park with my sketchbook. I met Eric there."

"I wish you'd told me or left me a message. I don't like waking up to find you gone."

"Sorry, Mom. You were still asleep, and I didn't want to wake you." Storey brushed past her and headed up the stairs. "I'm just going to show Eric some of my art. We don't have much time – he's expected back at his house."

"Oh." Her mother smiled at Eric. "In that case. She's very talented, you know."

"I've noticed."

Storey watched from the landing as Eric smiled at her mom, then she took the stairs two at a time. He followed her up. At the top landing, he glanced at her, a questioning look in his eyes. "Problems?"

"No." She led the way to her room.

At her doorway, she paused. Had she put her underwear away? How humiliating if she hadn't. With a grimace and a deep breath for courage, she flung the door wide and stepped inside. Her sketchbook lay on the floor, just as she'd left it. Pointing it out, she stood back and watched him approach it. One thing was for sure, from the care he took with the sketch, he might actually believe her.

She couldn't help leaning back against the wall, a little stunned at the realization that she had a guy in her bedroom. Wow. Kind of cool. Then again, she was behind the times. Many girls at school were already having sex. Of course, there were those with parents who would freak if they saw a guy in their daughter's bedroom, too. Her mom had let Eric waltz right in.

"So where's the stylus?"

"Stylus? You mean the pencil?" Why would he call it that?

"Right. Where is it?"

"In my bag." She slid the bag off her shoulder and pulled the ties open. Rummaging through, she remembered that she'd stuffed the pencil in her pocket. Pulling it out, she handed it to him.

He snatched it up, then dropped it immediately. "Ouch." It landed on the floor and rolled several feet.

"What is your problem?" She scrambled to pick it up. "It's a pencil, not a knife or a bomb." Straightening, she sat down and held it out for him again. His response was tentative at best. Narrowing her eyes, she watched him grasp it as if the stupid thing was going to bite him. She had to admit seeing it in his hand made her nervous, like she was in danger of losing something precious. After a tense moment, she said, "Hand it over."

"What?" He stared, mesmerized. "Awesome pencil. I'd love to have one myself."

Something about the way he said it made her uneasy. Yeah, he'd like to have one, but not a different one, he wanted hers.

"Now."

He looked up at her, his jaw line firming, squaring as if fighting himself over her demand. For a moment she wasn't sure he was going to give the pencil back, then he tossed it her way. As her fingers closed around it, relief coursed through her. Now she knew how that old hobbit had felt in the Lord of the Rings movie when he got back the ring. She frowned at the whimsical thought. Except this wasn't a magical pencil.

A light bulb went off in her head.

She was an idiot...because that's exactly what it was. The pencil had to be magic. How else could she walk through a sketch? She couldn't, unless she'd used something special to make it.

"Where's the blow up picture you did?"

Startled, Storey tried to focus on Eric now standing in front of her.

Storey pointed out the book off to the left on her computer desk. He picked it up and made a weird sound.

"You're acting really strange, you know that?"

"Am not." He turned the pages, studying each intently, his face filled with conflicting emotions. Something about his demeanor made her uneasy. His stare struck her as too intense, his spine too stiff, his attention too focused. She kept her eyes trained on him as he meticulously checked out her book.

He sucked in his breath, the color draining from his cheeks. After a long moment he spun to stare at her, his eyes gone the color of obsidian. "When did you draw this one?"

"Last night. After we talked. I actually haven't taken a look at it since." She leaned forward, but was at the wrong angle to see it clearly.

Eric stared at her in horror and started whispering some kind of weird chant. She'd heard plenty of spells being cast over the last few years, yet she'd never heard anything like what he was speaking. "Are you a Wiccan?" she asked curiously, when he took a breath.

Pale and shaking, he shook his head. His voice hoarse, he said, "You have no idea what you've done."

"
I've done?
I haven't done anything." So much for his understanding. He didn't look well. As a matter of fact, he looked closer to passing out than anyone she'd ever seen before. "Are you okay? You look like you're going to faint."

"Faint?" he cried out in horror.

"Hey, chill. I don't want my mom running up here."

He sank down on the bed beside her, shaking his head. "I'm trying to keep my voice down. You're a little tough on my ego."

Storey closed her eyes and prayed for patience. "Ego? You are one weird guy, you know that?" Opening her eyes, she stared at his stunned, almost devastated eyes. "Okay, please explain. What is going on? Why are you upset and what do you think I've done?"

In a hushed, thick voice, he said, "Unleashed thousands of demons from the world in between."

Storey stared at him.
Figures.
She'd finally met a guy who seemed to like her, was a dynamite kisser and sure enough he had looney tunes playing away inside his head. "Huh? What did you say?" She shook her head. "No wait. Never mind. Look..." She stood up and walked to the door, opening it. "It's gotta be time for your medicine or something. It's definitely time for you to go home."

He stared at her with empty eyes. She started to freak a little. "Did you hear me? You need to go home. You said you were supposed to earlier and I understand now. No problem. I won't tell anyone. Just...please go."

With a shake of his head, he stood up. "I can't do that. I need you to meet someone."

Storey shook her head. "No way. I'm
so
not going to meet any of the people in your life."

"Look I'm not sick. I don't need medicine. I need you to understand that this pencil, this stylus is special. It creates doorways – as you've found out. Somehow, you've opened a door that has remained sealed for hundreds of years. Even I don't understand the repercussions here. But," he emphasized, "we have to fix this."

"Fix what? I don't understand. You aren't making any sense."

"Like what you told me earlier down by the mine made sense?" He closed his eyes briefly. "You trusted me to listen to you and now I'm asking you to listen to me. The stylus enhances your abilities. In your hand it can create doorways." His blue eyes opened to blaze down at her. "Please. It won't take long. We could be there and back in an hour. I need you to show these drawings to someone."

Peering into his eyes, Storey wondered how to tell if someone was late for his dose of anti-psychotics. "Where?"

"Not far."

"Not far doesn't mean much."

"This is important. Vitally important. Please. What harm could it do to talk to him?"

He reached out and grasped her hand. Staring deep into her eyes, he pleaded, "Please. We have to go show him this." He flipped the sketchbook around so she could see the picture. A picture on a different page.

"Show him what? That's just something I drew before falling asleep last night. I was doodling on the door."

"Look at it closer," he ordered.

Playing along, she took another look. The markings looked different. She realized the doorway stood slightly ajar. Just then Eric shifted his fingers and she could see the picture clearer.

There, wrapped around the wood, as if trying to force it wider open, were eight long, knobby fingers.

***

The moment he felt the shift in her attitude, his panic eased. At least most of it. "Thank you." He stepped back, rotating his neck and shoulders as the tension eased.

"I didn't say I'd go."

"Yes, you did." He closed her sketchbook. "Let's go. Now." As much as he wanted to take the stylus from her, it was clear that it had already bonded, and the person who'd tried to take it from her had better watch out.

"Wait. What's the rush? Besides, what am I going to tell my mother?"

"We'll explain that you forgot your homework and that I have the assignment that you're missing."

"That's great for you. I don't do homework."

He shot her a look of disgust. "'Then you should. Do you really just want to work at the corner store all your life?"