Discovering Normal (18 page)

“The children I bore are not mine--I scarcely recall the experience. My place is here with you and the Flora-Sky.”

He leaned close and she closed her eyes. She waited for a kiss that she’d somehow have to devise a way to respond to, but miraculously it didn’t come. “I’ve waited so long,” he whispered. “I am seldom wrong, Farley-Fauna, but I am not hesitant to admit that I’d believed I would have to seek you out. I believed that once the one of true evil was removed, it would still be necessary to convince you of your place here among us. How delightful that I misjudged your obedience.”

He stood then, straightened his ridiculous outfit, and walked backwards toward the door. “I shall return momentarily. Await me, Farley-Fauna.”

But before he could get away, Beth piped up like a liberated woman of the Flora-Sky, and so boldly asked, “When will the joining ritual take place?”

And he smiled--almost a grin of pity. “Oh, my l
ove
, you are not ready. Not yet.”

She lifted her chin. “But I am, My Master.”

But he was already gone. He moved quickly despite the heavy and unyielding door. Beth squirmed on the chaise and raised her fingers to her mouth and nibbled. Then she remembered that Farley-Fauna would be above habits so mundane in The Most Masterful’s eyes and abruptly stopped. She felt the microphone and wanted desperately to call into it--just to hear the voice of Deej or George and enable herself to realize that this was a game and reality was still out there somewhere, but she didn’t dare. Bryan Holden could be just on the opposite side of the door.

It seemed like forever, but the door opened once again and he returned, holding a golden and gray ferret with scared eyes. Beth instantly softened. She and Noah had played with one at the Garrity fair. They were quick and engaging and loveable. She popped up and stroked the silky fur. “He’s adorable,” she said and then instantly wished she’d used,
dear
,
or
most adored
, or at the very least
precious
instead.

The tiny animal raised his pink nose and sniffed. Beth smiled despite herself as she pet him and then remembered Bryan Holden was clutching him tight. “You enjoy my little Antony, Farley-Fauna?”

Beth let her hand fall because she suddenly had the eerie feeling that this was a test. “I find him pleasant.”

Bryan’s small hand burrowed in the fur of the chubby male. “I am most pleased.”

Beth lowered to the chaise once again and cleared her throat. “Pardon my

inquisitiveness
, Most Masterful, but you neglected to answer my question. Please forgive my curiosity, but I’m most interested to know when the joining ritual will take place.”
           He shook his head and waved his finger before her eyes. “Do not rush the power, Farley-Fauna the Divine. Not yet. There is still much to be done.” He touched her hair again, just a tiny swipe of his finger. “Rest now, Farley-Fauna.”

“But I’ve only just awoken, My Master. Certainly I shall be granted a tour of the new sanctuary.”

Bryan Holden simply smirked as he opened the heavy door panel with Antony the ferret tucked beneath his arm and walked through without once looking back.

The second the door closed and Beth heard the slide of the lock; she spun to survey the room that housed her. Only one window
--
far too high off the ground to be any help at all. The door was securely locked and even a far stronger person than she wouldn’t be able to budge it. Her eyes took in every nook, every corner, but Bryan Holden was wise enough to know that if you didn’t want someone to steal away, you made damn sure that the escape would be an impossible feat.

***

The Most Masterful flung Antony into the arms of Dara-Dawn.

She caught the trembling animal. “What is it, My Master?”

“Leave me,” he screamed as he hurried down the hall.

But Dara-Dawn was a persistent girl. She moved slower now since she was nearing the time that the child would be delivered forth, but caught up to him nevertheless. “Does Antony displease Farley-Fauna?”

He stopped in his tracks. Could this girl truly believe that she was more than a receptacle to him? “Dare you question Farley-Fauna the Divine?”

“No, Master, but I--”

His arm flew out, slapping her cheek, causing her face to spin to the side. She straightened, still clutching the little rat, and for a moment looked incredibly human with her shock.

Then she curtsied and scurried down the opposite end of the hall
way
.

The Most Masterful of all slammed the door to his sanctuary and sent forth a scream of fury.

Farley-Fauna dare toy with him?

Oh she had no idea.

He hurled to his leather chair and snatched the receiver. “Now,” was all he uttered and slammed it down.

The Most Masterful tapped his sculpted lips and attempted to clear his mind of the polluted world outside the sanctuary walls. What was Farley-Fauna--no, not
his
Farley-Fauna, but Beth Stoddard--attempting to accomplish?

She was divorcing her husband and by all accounts she’d fallen in love with another man--another agent for gracious sakes. Why then would she be here, most likely trying to save Christopher Stoddard?

For the sake of her unworthy children he supposed.

The Most Masterful’s mind turned quickly, fine-tuning reels as they appeared to him. He could have the children brought forth and show Farley-Fauna that they could be one big happy family. They didn’t need the arrogant secret agent father who had given them life.

But did he want to deal with the children of Stoddard-of-handsome-face? Did he want a constant reminder that she, his divine one, had coupled with the one of true evil, not once but twice?

The Most Masterful’s head shook of its own volition.

No, that was not the answer.

Whatever Beth Stoddard’s reason for coming here, she’d already once proven that she was subject to the ways of the Flora-Sky. The Most Masterful was well aware that though Agent Christopher Stoddard had been broken, he’d not been converted and it mattered none the less to him. Stoddard served simply as retribution. The Most Masterful no more wanted Stoddard in his fold than the arrogant fool wanted to be there. The Most Masterful had tortured and would torture more by proving that Farley-Fauna had returned to the arms of Flora-Sky when Stoddard-of-handsome-face hadn’t been able to convince her not to leave his worthless ass.

The Most Masterful would not allow this opportunity to slip by.

But as omnipotent as Farley-Fauna the Divine was, Beth Stoddard could not have worked alone. Most likely one among his followers had helped. Weeding him or her out would not be pleasant. But certainly unpleasantness was part of greatness.

Calmer now, the Most Masterful sucked in a cleansing breath and tuned his music.

Verdi.

Then he sighed.

***

Beth pressed the tiny microphone close to her chest. “Deej?”

She heard static and nothing more.

“Deej, George?” she whispered, eyeing the door and praying that Bryan Holden’s ear wasn’t pushed to it.

A scratch and what sounded like a distant murmur.

“Deej?” she whispered again, but there was nothing, just the sound of an AM radio that didn’t even want you to hear the ever-present gospel or country.

“Damn,” Beth muttered out loud to no one. So much for asking for help to enlist her one ally in this place whom she may not even recognize if she got lucky enough to stumble upon him.

Beth scurried to the room that served as a bath. Her only hope was a grate of some sort, just wide enough that with luck she could shimmy through. She glanced at her clothes--how the hell was she supposed to slip through wrapped in satin and gauze? But it was the only chance she had of getting to Chris.

She climbed onto a bench that she’d swiped from beneath the vanity and extended her arms as high as she could. No luck.

Beth hopped down and fervently looked around, desperately trying to locate something to help her climb the three feet to reach the opening. There was nothing--no bathroom scale thick enough so she could stand on her tiptoes and make it, no rubber stool with a dinosaur face smiling up like the one that Audrey used to brush her teeth, no boxes stuffed into a closet or step ladder stored to swipe at corners with a feather duster.

Her eyes fell to the bench once again. Beth considered briefly and then flipped it onto its end so it stood vertically and wedged the legs against the vanity. With the added height it was just about right. She climbed on, used her best ballet techniques to balance and reached as far as she could.

Bingo.

Now she just had to get the damn grate off.

Beth hopped down and grabbed a sterling silver comb that was heavy as hell and a tiny nail file with a pointed diamond tip. She scaled the bench once again and set to work twisting the pointed file into the screw heads as she stretched. Slowly she turned, and turned more and pushed away the thought of sitting on her back porch trying desperately to fix the slamming door that Chris insisted upon ignoring. She hadn’t fixed it well or for long, but her anger of that day seemed so foolish now--so useless, so dumb, so stubborn. Why hadn’t she taken more time, explained to him how she felt, swallowed a little pride and simply asked him to help her fix it--help her fix everything?

But she couldn’t think that now. The game had changed and the rules were different and all she could focus on was getting him out. “Deej,” she whispered again, but only to hear another crackle. Where the hell were they?

After what seemed like forever, the first screw gave way. Beth set to work on the next and it went faster, her technique improved. Before long the grate was no longer fastened at the bottom. Beth slid the silver comb from beneath her armpit where she’d held it and wedged it under the grate. It gave a creak as she tugged until it finally opened. Unless she completely removed the panel that would only waste precious time as she loosened more fastenings, she’d be forced to climb through a narrow opening of just a few inches.

But she and Chris had wriggled down the heating ducts of a yacht to bring a drug Kingpin justice. She could do this.

Beth
jostled
the grate a few times to ensure it would give and only then became aware of the strain in her feet and calves from stretching up and balancing as she unscrewed. She hopped down, light as a pliet, and wished to God that she had something better than what were no more than satin slippers on her feet. She needed camouflage and heavy boots. She needed backup and reaffirmation that she was equipped and prepared and ready.

“Deej? George?”

“Beth,” she heard then--crackled, muffled.

“Yes! You haven’t been reading me!”

Crackle, snap, crackle.

“…fog.  ….hard.  Stay…for now.  …safety.”
             
“George!” she whispered as forcefully as she could, because she was quite certain it was him who’d given the command.

And then it was silent. George had told her that if they lost her they’d move closer and she had to proceed with that knowledge. Beth looked to the door as if she’d find a little clue and then back to the grate that just might save her.

Now or never,
as Chris would say.
Do or die.

Beth flung open the linen cabinet and grabbed two large bath towels made from a heavy weave instead of the much more user-friendly terrycloth. It took some effort, but she managed to wrench them around her body to cover the white fabric. Her microphone dug into her chest and the tiny pistol pinched her hip. She caught a quick glimpse in the mirror--she looked like a caterpillar trying desperately to break from a cocoon, and maybe in a way that’s all she was.

The wrap was tight, but she wriggled back onto the stool, took care to maintain her precious balance and then reached for the opening. The grate slammed and bounced against her hand, slicing her knuckles, but still Beth pushed and pulled until she was able to hoist herself up and under the iron panel. She gritted her teeth, but continued to lift. The opening was small and tight, the grate dug into her back and for the first time she was grateful for the tight and thick layers she wore. Finally she made it through, the grate slamming behind her with a ding if anyone had been close enough to hear.

“Deej?” she whispered, and then remembered from one of her million lessons that the voice carried in any sort of hollow, confining space. She wanted contact. She wanted Deej and George there to edge her on, but from the last message she’d barely been able to decipher, it’d been pretty clear that Deej and George wanted her to wait, to stop, to be patient.

And she couldn’t do that.

Because with delay came reality and with the reality of being an agent again would come the reality that she was really just a mother.

And a mother couldn’t jeopardize herself this way. She had children to consider.

Beth squeezed her eyes and allowed herself a flashing moment of self-pity. Then she opened them and remembered only what it was she had to do. The space was dark and drafty and from the feel of the area around her as she extended her hands, dirty. She sucked in a breath, did a quick summary of her microphone and pistol, and then wriggled forward to crawl God only knew where.