Dangerous Designs (9 page)

"Uh, oh," murmured Eric. He stepped up beside her as if bracing for a mortal blow.

The temperature in the room dropped.

Paxton rose and came running over to stand in front of her. "That's enough. She doesn't understand our ways. In this case, I believe Eric was right to do what he did."

A murmur rustled throughout the room. To have stood beside her, siding with her...had to be big. Storey didn't care how big. She hadn't been a conformist in her world, she wasn't about to start now.

The breath wooshed out of Eric and his shoulders relaxed.

"Eric, take her over to the seats so we can get started."

Storey noticed the two empty chairs only when Eric motioned toward them. Paxton waited until they'd sat down before addressing the swelling crowd. "Now. This problem is one for both our worlds. Several weeks ago a research team, Denby's team, I believe, crossed over. They were there for less than an hour when Sarcov, the head scientist, became sick. We think at this point he might have been allergic to some of the plants he was studying."

Eric shifted. Storey shot him a questioning look. He never took his gaze off Paxton.

"...in the panic to treat him and get him home, the team missed packing up some equipment. As a result, his stylus was lost."

The murmur in the room swelled. Paxton held up his hand. "I know. I know. We weren't made aware of this until Sarcov woke up in the hospital and asked for it." He looked around the room. "We sent a team back immediately. And they were almost upon it when they saw a young girl stoop to pick it up. They followed her, hoping to recover the instrument, only they lost her in the school." He nodded toward Storey. "This is the girl."

He stopped to pin the seated members with a cutting glare, before saying, "What's important to understand is that she picked it up with her bare hands and had no problem in doing so."

Over the growing murmur of excited voices, Paxton glanced over at Storey. "I'll explain in a minute."

"Storey didn't know what she'd found. As an artist, she was happy with her find, thinking it was only a writing instrument. Except she soon found herself driven to draw on every surface from her textbooks, homework, even her own arms."

Storey pulled her sleeves down over her wrists. Her fingers clenched in her lap. She hadn't thought he'd noticed. She'd tried to wash it off, but no go.

Eric interjected. "Sorry, Storey. I didn't say anything to you because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." He turned back to address the elders. "She was listening to the stylus. It's been trying to come back home."

His father shook his head. "That's not possible. She's not capable of hearing the stylus. They speak only to their owners."

Paxton shook his head. "It
shouldn'
t be possible. However, as we've never lost anything over there, we don't
know
what's possible and what's not. Especially with something soulbound."

Eric's father's gaze narrowed, sharpened. "Doesn't that defy the term?"

Another seated elder spoke. "Exactly. If the stylus was soulbound, how did she manage to pick it up?"

"We're not sure of anything in this case. It's possible," Paxton suggested, "that due to Sarcov's illness, the bond between him and the stylus weakened. It's also possible that crossing the veil changed something that contributed to the bond weakening. The stylus might have been able to detach." Paxton shrugged. "We just don't know."

Murmurs rose through the crowd.

Paxton straightened and raised his right hand, commanding silence from the audience. "We don't have all the answers here. There are much more important issues to focus on. We know that Storey picked up the stylus and used it for her artwork. However, without knowing what she was doing, she drew a doorway and actually managed to go through it, thus entering our world."

The crowd cried out in shock. "What? She came here? Without us knowing?"

"Yes, that's correct. Except the monitoring system tracked her movements."

Storey leaned toward Eric, her eyes widening in shock. "I have?"

"Yes. The mine is partially on our side."

She blinked. Then blinked again. "So, when I went through the floor in my bedroom and ended up in the mine, that was the same as crossing the veil?"

He studied her face then grinned, that same lopsided smile. Damn, he shouldn't be allowed to do that.

"Something like that. The stylus actually took you to a formal crossing zone in the mine. You couldn't get out because it wasn't active on our side. It's only because the crossing notified Paxton of your activity that you were found at all."

Dismay crossed her face. "Are you saying I might have never gotten out?"

"If we didn't monitor the veil then yes. It's quite likely you'd have died there and no one would have known." He reached across to cover her clenched hands with his. "However, Paxton
did
find you. He told me and I opened the door on your side of the world to let you out."

"And the second time I went in?" Storey struggled to understand.

Eric grimaced. "The stylus took you to a different gate entirely, presumably because the first attempt didn't work. I had to make it look like Bankhead mine when you walked out." He tilted his head, this time a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I also have a soulkey that unlocks almost anything. It has a few other functions that are dangerous to use if you are untrained."

The mine door. Storey shook her head and laughed. "No way. That's not possible. How could I not notice?"

He flushed then mumbled, "I did it while you were...distracted."

She blinked. Memories flooded in. That kiss. That hot, wonderful, mind-blowing kiss. "That's why you kissed me?" she hissed. "Oh, my God."

Eric's face slipped from the color of a sun-kissed peach color to a fat ripe tomato. Storey glanced around, noting multiple disapproving frowns deepened as they understood, too. "Oh crap. Sorry everyone. Swearing is common in my world. It's not an insult against humanity over there."

"It's not over here either; however, it is a sign of disrespect," said another older male, this one just as disapproving as the others at the table.

"Right." She grimaced. "I'll try to remember that."

Paxton took control of the conversation again, lowering the noise level in the room instantly. "The real problem is that Storey drew something else." Paxton reached for Storey's sketchbook sitting in front of him on the table. "This."

He flipped through the book until he found the right page, then held it up to show everyone.

The crowd erupted into an outcry of shock. Storey grimaced as she looked at it. That hand was beyond creepy. "I don't know if it matters or not, but I don't remember much about drawing that picture."

Eric's father groaned and smacked his hand down on the table. "That just makes it worse. How could you?"

"How could I what? Draw? I've always drawn. It's never created portals into another dimension. Keep in mind, I wouldn't have done anything if you people hadn't left that instrument behind on your invasion."

"Invasion? Did she just say invasion?"

"What invasion? What is she talking about?"

Paxton once again held up his hand to bring the conversation back under control. "We're not pointing fingers here. A series of accidents has brought us to this spot. We have to focus. We are in a crisis, let's deal with that."

Arguments and shouting broke out across the room. Storey slunk low in her chair. Who could get used to all this fighting?

"Stop," roared Paxton. "We have to find out what this drawing represents. And if it is what I think it is, we have to find a solution – fast."

Eric's father shot a disgusted look at Storey. "This is just a drawing. She can't possibly wield the power of the stylus."

Another elder seated at the table spoke up. "Just what are you thinking the problem is here?"

Paxton addressed the room, his voice deep and deadly serious. "I'm afraid it's the Louers."

Dead silence. Then absolute chaos erupted.

Louers? Storey wracked her brain. Nope, the name meant nothing to her. Obviously, it did to everyone else as questions flew at Paxton too fast for him to answer.

"The Louers. Oh my. I thought they'd been wiped out."

"Are they real?"

"We got rid of them, didn't we?"

The questions rose and fell all around her. As she caught the gist of the conversation, the puzzle pieces fell into place. Storey thought she finally understood. "Are you saying this hand belongs to one of those Louers? And that by drawing a doorway, I actually created a door they could open too?"

"Exactly." Paxton nodded like she was some favorite student. She'd love to be, except her next question would drop her right down to a failing grade.

"So who and what are the Louers?"

CHAPTER EIGHT

H
er history lesson wouldn't start until later. By that time, Storey expected to be comatose. It didn't seem to matter which side of the veil she was on. Neither side could get an agreement out of a group of people – decision by committee was a waste of time. The bickering had been going on for hours. At least it felt that way to Storey.

"We should set up a committee to study the problem. We'll appoint an overseer who can pick his team and set out steps as to how to proceed."

"Oh, not this again." Storey groaned as the same idea was hashed over and over again.

"What?" asked a skinny, bald-headed guy dressed similarly to Paxton. "Have you got a better idea?"

"Hell, yes." The same hush fell over the room as she once again lost her cool. "Oh, right, I swore again. Well, I've got to tell you – it's a little hard to have any respect for a group of people who are so busy trying to get someone else to make a decision that nothing gets done." She stood up, ignoring Eric's restraining hand on her forearm. "I know I don't understand how things work over here, but maybe someone could answer a couple of questions. Such as, can I draw the door closed? Can I rip up the paper and have it no longer exist? How about I draw a group of people taking these Louers and forcing them back to the other side?"

"Will someone shut this girl up. She's wasting our time and has caused us nothing but trouble. Someone get her out of here." Eric's father, the arrogant asshole, appeared to be some kind of leader here.

"Why? Because I'm trying to understand what we can and can't do. It seems logical that if the stylus opened the door, it could close it, too." She strove to keep her voice reasonable.

"I don't think it works like that," Eric whispered.

"That's the problem. None of you know how this works." She spread her hands out on the table. "You're all so used to doing something one way that you can't see there might be another way to approach the problem."

"It's not that. There are rules on our side. The Louers were our enemies. Since they've been gone we've had peace."

"Yeah? Did you go on secret research missions and steal from them, too?" she scoffed. "You guys need to work on your communication skills."

"And you need to stop insulting us."

"Why?" she challenged. "What are you going to do?" She stood, reached across the table for her sketchbook, and then walked to the doorway. "You don't want me here. I'm obviously of no value, so pardon me if I leave." She strode out, letting her sarcasm fill the room.

"Don't let her leave. Eric, stop her," the Councilman shouted.

Eric stood up and snorted as Storey walked away. "What do you want me to do?"

"Well, she can't just run loose over here. Who knows what kind of damage she could cause?"

Eric snorted again. "Like we do in her world. It's not like we registered with her any of her governments and sign in and out on our visits. Neither are we under guard at any time."

The Councilman's icy voice sliced through the room. "Lock her up. She's the enemy."

Storey gasped and spun around. Seeing the vindictive look on his fat face, she headed for the doorway.

"No, wait." Eric raced behind her.

His father called back. "Eric. She's not one of us. Remember your place."

Shooting his father a disgusted look, Eric left the conference room. He caught up with her in the lab. "What are you doing?"

"Going home. I came here at your request. I can't help you. Therefore, I'm going home."

"You can't just leave. Don't you understand? This is a different dimension. You can't just walk home." Eric ran his hand through his hair. "I know this is tough, and I'm sorry. I'd forgotten what it's like when this group gets together.

"It's called bureaucracy on my side."

"Yeah. Same thing here."

"And yes, I can just leave." Storey waved the stylus and sketchbook at him.

"What, you're just going to draw the other side? And expect to walk right into it?"

"Or something that's even easier." She sat down cross-legged on the floor and sketched madly for a couple of minutes while Eric watched over her shoulder.

"There's no way that's going to work," he scoffed.

"Maybe and maybe not," she answered him without raising her gaze from her picture. "Then again, you're so used to the rules of your world that you don't even know if the rules can be broken. And sometimes you don't need to break anything. You need to find a way around things."

He squatted down beside her. "True. I'd think you might need to know the rules before you can break them."

"Apparently not or we wouldn't be in this mess now." She shot him a grin before refocusing. "Wait and see. If it doesn't work, no problem, then you can use your decoder and take me home." She finished her drawing, painfully aware of his lack of response. She stood up and waited until he'd straightened and looked at her. "They won't let you take me home, will they?"

He grimaced, dropping his gaze to the ground and kicked out as if at an invisible rock. "No."

"Well, you're going to have to if this doesn't work," she said coolly. "You brought me here, so it's up to you to do the right thing and take me home. Especially as you brought me here without my permission in the first place. You said you wanted to show someone my work. You didn't say I'd be going to another dimension to make that happen. And you didn't say I wouldn't be going home."