Book Two of

The Trees Series 

Prologue  
 

      _The Trees had stood for many years, source of legend and fairy tale—fact and fiction. Distinguished by their distorted growth patterns, these plants were never meant to grow in Earthly soils under a yellow sun. The Trees were derived from a different dimension: one where the laws of nature binding this world do not apply. Their seeds had been brought through a gate—a portal between worlds, that could only be used by those with both the vision, and the genetic make-up, to access it.

      For humans, the ability to travel the route between worlds was limited to those who had somehow incorporated part of that other dimension into their being. Smoke, produced in burning wood from the Trees, could evoke genetic changes—mutations—in those who inhaled it, making the gate both recognisable and usable.

      But, human users of the gate could not expect to be alone in their travels. Inhabitants of other worlds were curious about the strange activities in the world of humans, and any excuse was considered invitation enough to explore the unknown wealth of interesting customs that comprised daily life on earth. If the excuse offered the opportunity to perform heroic deeds—and stir up a little trouble along the way—then the lure for visitors was almost irresistible.

      And, thus, it came about, that if a neighbour had chanced to pass a certain house near that portal between worlds, he might merely have seen two human females. If his timing were right, however, he may have glimpsed some of the others: two males, whose origins were no longer strictly human, or, perhaps, the glimmering coat of a winged horse. A closer look might have revealed the fearful visage of a gargoyle, or the bright light of a fairy aura.

      These creatures, and others, had joined in a clash between good and evil; between the forces of science and nature—but with the natural laws drawn from another dimension. The foe, a human named Garrett Mader, had been vanquished, lost during his attempt to manipulate trans-dimensional forces for power and economic gain.

      Now, having won their battle, the heroes romp and cavort in the warmth of late summer, having earned this brief respite before returning to their own world.

*** 

      Chapter One 
 

      _Barry Kadocian pounded weakly on the door to the cell, where he had been incarcerated by Garrett Mader. His physical state was poor—he had been without food for three days now. He stumbled over to the bed, unhappily aware that he was spending longer and longer sleeping, but having no energy to do anything else. He started to crawl on to the mattress, to assume the foetal position he’d been inadvertently using during his last two sleeping periods, when he heard the click of the door latch. His reactions were as slowed as everything else about him at this point, but the technician who swung the door wide was greeted with a big smile.

      “Mr. Kadocian! What are you doing here? Are you okay?” Shock was apparent in the man’s voice. 

      “Is Mader here?” Memory, and a need for self-preservation, prompted Barry to ask somewhat harshly in reply.

      Edward Sherman put one arm around Kadocian, helping him to a stool in the lab. Kadocian glanced around the shambles of the once-immaculate laboratory. A breeze across his face caused him to look up. Sharp spines of glass framed an enormous jagged hole in the smoke-coloured glass ceiling. “What happened here?” Barry asked in a whisper. “Where’s Garrett Mader?”

      Edward replied hesitantly, uncertain of Kadocian’s role in what had happened. “Dr. Mader’s been missing for three days, sir. We checked the wreckage, but there was no sign of him.”

      “Is his car still here?”

      Edward nodded. “But he might have taken one of the other cars—or a helicopter.”

      “What did Elaine say?”

      It took Sherman a moment to realise Kadocian was referring to Mader’s wife. “She called six times yesterday, and four times today, demanding to speak with him. She thinks he’s still here.”

      And avoiding her. Barry Kadocian looked askance at Ed Sherman, but didn’t ask him where he’d gotten his information. The grapevine, in a facility like this, worked overtime. What couldn’t be taken outside, was hashed and re-hashed within the compound.

      Kadocian didn’t state the obvious, either. It was clear to him that the so-called “search” hadn’t really been all that thorough. Or else they would have found me. He took a kind of grim pleasure in the knowledge that Mader inspired so little loyalty in his employees. Then he remembered they hadn’t exactly scoured the walls looking for him, either.

      “This room—what happened in here?”  Kadocian sat with a lab coat draped around himself, needing the warmth in his depleted state.

      “We don’t know. It may’ve been an explosion—that’s one theory that’s been suggested—but the glass looks like it imploded, which is causing some confusion.”

      Barry looked at the ground. Sure enough, if the amount of glass was any clue, then the shattering force must have come from without, because the ground was covered with shards.

      “The latest theory is that the destruction was sound-activated—you know, some prolonged note at just the right pitch—” 

      Kadocian could tell this was the theory Edward favoured; in his excitement he was almost babbling. Barry interrupted his chatter with, “Or a miscalculation by a helicopter pilot?”

      The other man suddenly realised how improbable his theory must seem to Kadocian. But, then, Kadocian hadn’t seen what the rest of them had. Edward Sherman decided he wasn’t going to be the one to enlighten him. He cleared his throat, and changed the subject. “How did you get locked in, Mr. Kadocian?” 

      There was no point in accusing Mader of imprisoning him. The time for that would be after Kadocian was clear of this facility. For now, an innocuous answer would suffice. “I’m not sure. Someone must have accidentally shut the door.” He avoided saying the obvious: that the “someone” should have heard him pounding on the door, just as Sherman had. Instead, he asked politely, “Do you think you could find me some food?  I haven’t eaten in three days.”

      Edward nodded, pleased to do something to help. He quickly left the lab, after assuring Barry he’d be right back.

      Barry walked carefully over the bits of smoke-coloured glass, listening to them crunch beneath his feet, hoping no pieces would pierce the leather soles of his shoes. Why hadn’t they cleaned this mess up yet? Then he answered his own question. It’s the result of Mader’s strong influence. I should have recognised how much of this operation was tied up in one man. Even in Mader’s absence, no one dares to touch his workspace or belongings. I guess I should be grateful that the technician even found me, he thought.

      In one place, he saw the floor was stained with brown splatters, which remained as spots and smears. The smears continued across the floor to the operating table with its Velcro straps, and there was a large patch of the brown stain on the bed and the floor directly below. The colour was suggestive of dried blood, and he shuddered slightly at the implication. There were instruments and gauze scattered across the floor, and a chair tipped on its side. What had happened here?

      Kadocian was about to step away from the table, when he spied several small objects on the floor that had an odd iridescence about them. In his weakened state, retrieving them was an effort, but his curiosity was aroused. He picked up the marble-like objects, only to find that they weren’t rounded at all, but multi-faceted, in the way of cut stones. The iridescence ranged from a golden glow to a pinkish streaking, with unusual flashes of gilt if the objects were rotated. Barry wondered what they were, and whether it was safe to be touching them. Obviously, Mader had either developed, or supervised the development of, some new type of crystal. Barry slipped them into his pocket. They were so unusual that he decided to have them analysed. After all, he was in charge of the moneys that were funding Mader’s operation.

*

      The remains of Garrett Mader rested in the blackness of an unopened closet, coiled up on the tatters of what was formerly his lab coat.  He was not dead, but had long since passed the stage where any human proportion of his being was measurable, and if he remembered the Garrett Mader of days gone by, it was more as an echo of that individual’s unquenchable lust for knowledge, power, and control. These were the heredity bequeathed to the conglomerate creature the human had become. A creature of his own choosing.

      He had injected himself with an unknown, as yet undeciphered compound, with only a glimmering of what it might do.  He’d experienced nearly immediate, painful and terrifying cell growth, for which he blamed those parties who had wilfully interrupted his last project, so that he could only complete his testing by inflicting these damages upon himself.  The Mader of then, and the Mader of now, would never recognise his guilt in being willing to inflict similar damages on others, as subjects of his research.

      The purpose of his experiment had been multifold, of which inoculation of his subject with the mutative agent was the first step. In his limited vision, the genetic aberrations initiated by the compound rendered any test subject less than human, which, in turn, vindicated any tissue and organ studies which followed. To his convoluted reasoning, use of the mutagen could be justified by utilising subjects who had been potentially “contaminated” by the “disease” associated with the compound—who, by their behaviour, had in some way placed themselves in the vicinity of a disease carrier—the individual from whom the compound had been isolated.

      His decision to inject himself had not been the sacrificial act of a scientist bent on achieving a long-dreamed-of goal. An acquisitive motive prevailed in Mader’s thinking, and he saw his transition as the means to new levels of power and domination—a calculated risk. Mader had not been a man to take defeat lightly; when his plans succumbed to the machinations of his would-be victims, an incipient paranoia crept in, and the Garrett Mader who injected, and then sequestered himself in the closet, was no longer sane.

      The power he had hoped for was his. It surged through him, and soon he would need to yield to its demands for action. In the dark, he couldn’t see what he had become, and therefore would spare no lamentations for his lost humanity, should his memory be nudged to life by the sight of his former working place. He hesitated here only long enough to look within, and find a direction for his energies. The answer came in scattered memories of unavenged defeat, and he readied himself to rectify the wrongs he had suffered. His glowing eyes flickered red in response.

*

      Peter was worried.  Up until the last week, his only concern had been that Katy would dislike the home he’d selected for them both, as being too rural, or too derelict, or too something. Now, he could feel how much his Katy loved this place, but he suffered from a constant niggling worry that they would be found out. It wasn’t only Katy, but Trevor and Mari who were at risk, and with their relationship newly blossoming, they didn’t need the looming pressure of discovery lurking in their future.

      The last three days had been restful, but now Peter was itching for activity, and one glance at Trevor told him he felt the same. They’d needed this time—Katy to recover from her physical ordeal, and Mari and the rest of them to heal up some of the bumps and bruises that their various encounters had cost them. At first, it was enough to be with Katy, but Peter was chafing now with his inactivity. It was one of the costs of his new metabolism.

      Thyme, an obstreperous fairy who seldom resembled the enchanted beings of children’s stories, and his friends, were also driving Peter to distraction. Rather than submit to Peter’s and Trevor’s urgings that they should re-enter the inter-dimensional gate, Thyme was adamant that they were on holiday, and had heaps of exploring yet to do. Peter realised that Thyme was a big talker, but as naive as a child, and just as capable of landing them all in trouble.

*

      “Trev, we’ve got a major problem.” Peter was looking out the window to where Thyme and Cliso, a creature who resembled unequal minglings of human female and snake, were playing some kind of game involving passers-by. Apparently, the object of the game was to wait until the last moment, risking exposure to a passing vehicle, then fly or slither (depending on your mode of locomotion) behind one of two large mounds out in front. 

      “No kidding. Did you see that last guy slam on his brakes? He must have seen something.” Trevor shook his head.

      “If the neighbourhood hotline isn’t heating up already, it will be soon. Then, somebody’ll get brave, and come over to investigate.”

      “And then the shit will hit the fan,”  Trevor muttered.

      “There’s more, Trev.” Peter turned to look at his friend. “I’m restless. Not in any way I’ve been before. It’s my energy levels going crazy. I can’t go to work and I need some action.” He was pacing the floor in the way he had frequently done over the last few days.

      Trevor joined him. “Tell me about it. Look at that—” He pointed out several white patches in the carpet. “We’re wearing out your floor.”

      Peter’s glowing eyes met Trevor’s. “We could solve two problems at once,” he suggested, smiling. “As soon as Katy’s feeling better, you and I could pay a short visit through the gate—with the help of suitable guides, of course—”

      Trevor’s eyes glinted back in suppressed excitement. “Invite our friends to show us around.” Thinking about the divots that an eager, trigger-happy, Security guard had put in Cyrnol’s thick purple cat-hide, he shook his head. By all rights, at least some of these creatures should be happy to go home, he thought. His reply to Peter, however, was hesitant. “But will it be safe? What about that Shimmer thing?”

      “They must have some way of returning without being eaten, Trev. Only a few of them can fly. The others must have something worked out.”

      “Yeah—an aroma of tainted fairy. Puts the Shimmer off his feed.”

      Peter ignored the comment. “Maybe Symmerley gives them a ‘lift’ or something.”

      Trevor snorted. “Somehow, I can’t imagine him putting up with a cat-beast or a gargoyle on his back.”

      “Sh-h-h. You’ll hurt their feelings. Thyme said it bothers them when we don’t use their proper names.”

      “I’ll use a proper name for that little pusbucket. He’s the last one in the world I’d trust on a point of polite behaviour,” Trevor replied.

      “I don’t think politeness has anything to do with it,” Peter said. “I just think Spigot believes it would spoil his fun if we were to annoy someone enough to get eaten.”

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*

      Katy had just awoken from a long nap. She stood up, drawn to a sight outside her window, caught up in that feeling of wonder that had been with her often the last three days. There was a knock at the door, to which Katy called, “Come in”, before turning once again to the window, her face against the glass. Mari joined her there, eager to see what had caught Katy’s interest; certain after recent experience that it must be something worth viewing.

      It was Symmerley, caught in a ray of sunlight, so white that he seemed to be glossily reflective, and certainly dazzling. He stood, horselike in configuration, with strong muscles flexing under his satiny coat. He flexed first one wing, then the other, and Katy caught her breath as he extended them outwards. Symmerley sensed something, for he turned to look at her, and she could have sworn he smiled.

      Without turning her head, Katy quietly asked Mari, “What was it like, Mari? Being on his back?” Katy looked at her then. 

      Mari replied, smiling, “It was like floating, Katy. An incredible experience. You could feel the movement of his muscles underneath you, the wind in your hair—the swift silence except for the beating of his wings.”

      Katy smiled at her. “You never told me you were a poet.” She turned to stare at Symmerley again. “I need to sketch him,” she mused. “And the others.” Her smile widened as she thought about how Thyme had given Peter fits.

      “You must be feeling better then, if you’re ready to do some sketching. How are the ribs, Katy?”

      Katy wiggled experimentally, then winced slightly as her ribs complained in response. “A little more stiff and sore today, but I think that’s part of the healing process.” She chuckled. “I’m basing that on my face, of course.” She glanced at the mirror. “I certainly wouldn’t win any beauty contests right now.”

      Mari reached out to gently hold Katy’s jaw, turning her face to study it in the light from the window. “The bruising is just really coming out. That’s the first step in healing, Katy. You’ll be a lovely purple, then red—”

      “—then green, then yellow.” Katy finished. “More poetry, Mari? Next, you’ll be spouting gibberish about rainbows and sunsets.” She glanced out the window again, then back at Mari. “At least, I’ll blend in with our guests. Make them feel right at home.”

      Mari nodded. “I think that’s what Trevor and Peter are worried about—that they’re feeling too much at home.”

      Katy shook her head. “That’s not all, Mari. Peter and Trevor are restless. All that pacing they’re doing—Peter doesn’t say anything to me, but it’s obvious he needs some action, something to do.”

      Mari agreed. “They must be running at metabolic levels we can only dream about. Katy,” she said hesitantly, “I overheard them talking, and there’s something you should know—” Katy look concerned. “No, Katy, it’s nothing to do with their physical condition,” Mari was quick to reassure her, “but they want to make a quick trip through the gate. To escort our friends,” she indicated Symmerley with a nod of her head, “home safely.”

      Katy chuckled as she sat down on the edge of the bed. “Excuses, excuses,” she said.

      Mari smiled. “They’ve been itching at the chance to go back. Trevor hasn’t said anything to me yet, but every time he mentions that other dimension he gets this sparkle in his eye.”

      “How can you tell?” Katy asked jokingly. Her face became serious once more. “I really wish I could see it, Mari.” She stared out the window, lost in thought. “Peter has skimmed over some of his adventures, and he’s not a great one for description—unless it’s fungus—” she added ruefully, “—but it still sounds phenomenal. Dangerous, but incredible.” She looked at Mari. “Mari, there’s something I need to ask you about. As a doctor. This disease—or condition—whatever you want to call it—would it be contagious to us—you and me—” It was Katy’s turn to hesitate. “Not in the normal course of things, but through more personal contact? You see, Peter and I haven’t really had much of an opportunity to do anything closer than snuggling these last few days, but—”

      Mari sat down next to her. She looked unhappy. “I don’t know, Katy. I suppose we could run some tests, but at this point I’d assume the transformation affected all his cellular constituents. Believe me,” she added, “I’ve been giving this some thought, too.”

      “You really care for Trevor, don’t you?” Katy asked.

      Mari nodded. “The experiences we’ve had have made us get together a lot faster than we would have normally. But I’m not sorry. I know I’ll be very lucky if he feels the same way—”

      “Do you mean he hasn’t said anything to you? About how he feels? It’s obvious to the rest of us.”

      Mari looked pleased. “I think I’m just having trouble seeing past my own sense of infatuation. I really haven’t asked him if he’s affectionate because I’m the only available female in the vicinity, or if it’s something more enduring. Frankly,” she added, “I’d be terrified to put him in the position of having to admit he doesn’t return my feelings.”

      Katy gave her a quick hug. “I’ve known Trevor forever, and I’ve never seen him this hung up on someone before. Maybe we can make it a double wedding!” She pictured it, smiling. Then she asked Mari, “The other thing that comes into this discussion, Mari, is children. I’d like to have a couple, and I realise that’s not likely now. It doesn’t change my feelings for Peter, but I would like to know—”

      “I think it would be exceedingly dangerous, Katy. For the same reason I was concerned about Mader’s experiments. The child would most likely be transformed, like Peter, but if you weren’t, you’d get a tremendous influx of the mutagen. Just as you would,” she warned, “if you were to make love to Peter without protection—and I don’t feel confident that any protection would be adequate, given the aggressiveness of this substance.”

      “But if I were transformed, like Peter, then we might be able to have kids. Little green ones, but...”

      Mari took her by the shoulders. “We don’t know that, Katy. And I, for one, don’t like the way this conversation’s going. Both Peter and Trevor were very ill during their transformations. And we still don’t know about long-term effects. You might not even be able to bear children if you were transformed, let alone live long enough to raise them! The reaction may be completely different in females. We just don’t know enough about—”

      Katy, realising how upset Mari was getting, interrupted, in an attempt to reassure her. “Don’t worry, Mari! I’m not about to stoke myself a little bonfire to transform myself!” Katy was beginning to get a little upset herself. Mari’s words had confirmed her private fears. “I just can’t help but wonder how we’re going to get by here. Look at it yourself! I’ll go back to work in a little while, and then what will Peter do? He talks of setting up a lab here, and it might work—he could handle things by e-mail and courier. But he’s going to get lonely, and miss all those professional contacts he’s used to maintaining, as well as all the access to journals and books to keep up his skills.”

      Mari noticed that Katy had one arm wrapped around her middle. It was obvious she was hurting, and Mari could have kicked herself for getting her so upset. She tried to steer her away from the window, but Katy shook her head. Mari finally decided to ignore it—like Katy was—and just let her talk. It’ll probably do her more good than anything else.

      “We may get more problems from Mader’s group, even if Mader’s not around to instigate them. From what Peter says, if we lived on Thyme and Lily’s side of the gate, we could at least live openly together, instead of indulging in all this subterfuge. I act like I’m enjoying it, for Peter’s sake, but the truth is, I’m worried sick.” She wiped away a tear impatiently, angry with herself for getting weepy. “Sorry, Mari,” she said, embarrassed. “This is the last thing you needed. Just pretend it didn’t happen, okay?” She gave Mari a quick hug. “The most important thing is being with Peter, wherever he is. I like my life, but sometimes one partner needs to make sacrifices. Peter’s lost so much over this accident, and I want him to know he’s not going to lose me, too.”

      “I can’t help but be worried, too, Katy. Trevor and I are going to face the same problems.” She sighed. “Trevor’s apartment is so visible that he can’t even go home.”

      Katy stiffened her shoulders. “All this is an unknown—an adventure.”

      It sounds like she’s trying to convince herself, Mari thought. 

      But Mari couldn’t help but smile at her next words. They were just so “Katy”-like.

      “No more emotional displays. We’ll tackle one day at a time. The first thing is to be grateful we’re all alive. Now, Peter wants to make sure his new friends stay that way, but it’s not going to be easy.” Katy forced a smile. “Have you ever seen anything like the way they take to things in our dimension? Peter referred to them as Earth-junkies, and I think he’s right. It’s going to take a lot of coaxing to get them to leave.”

      “I really think Trev and Peter have the right idea in accompanying them to the gate, even if they have to spend some time on the other side. Why don’t you come and stay at my place while Peter’s away? You can’t go back to work yet, and I’d love the company. That way Peter would feel free to go because he’d know you’re safe.”

      “Mari, I’d love it!” The idea of a few days without having to hide anything made her feel almost giddy. Then she remembered Mari’s description of her escape from the hospital. Katy asked her, a trace of concern in her voice, “Is everything okay at work for you? You did leave the hospital pretty abruptly.”

      Mari chuckled. “Paul Gatley was so understanding that I felt guilty. He thinks I’m off on holiday right now, recuperating.”

      Katy smiled. “Some vacation! Tell him you went to the circus.” She added, “I just hope when we get to your place you can cook better than you’ve been doing here.”

      “Hey, Trevor hasn’t had any complaints.”

      “That’s because he and Peter and the rest of that lot like their food on the black and crispy side.” At the expression on Mari’s face, Katy giggled. “It’s not any worse than when Peter and Trevor take their turns. It’s just that I was hoping you’d be able to modify yours and my portions a little. In other words, I hope you haven’t forgotten how to cook any other way.”

      “Well, if I have, Katy, I’ll leave it to you to give me lessons.”

      “Not I, Mari. Ask Peter. He was eating charred food a la Katy long before he ever turned green. Nope, I’ll put money toward some frozen food we can nuke, okay?”

      “Not okay. We’ll send out for Chinese and pizza.”

      “The last time we ordered either, Peter ate almost all of it. In a few minutes, he’s going to come in here, looking all guilty because he’s excited about another adventure and doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. Now, I can tell him he’s been replaced. By Chinese food, pizza, and a glass of white wine.”

      Mari looked at Katy. “Do you think they’ll be all right? Did Peter say much about the things he encountered over there?”

      Katy glanced down, not willing to scare Mari with her own fears. “Enough to know that if I could stop him from going without increasing his feelings of being trapped, I would. Even if I hinted that it worried me, he’d stay. But I can’t do that to him, Mari.  He needs this outlet for his energies.”

      Mari agreed. “So I’ll just kiss Trevor good-bye, smile, and pray like heck until he comes home.”

*

      Lily was perched on a tree limb, delicately whirring her wings to hover a millimetre above the rough bark. She watched as Thyme played his games with passers-by, smiling when he looked at her for approval. Dear Thyme! she sighed. So childlike, but so fun. If only he respected other living beings more.

        She sensed that there was some unhappiness among the humans, and it saddened her. She gently drifted in through an open window, making her way to Katy’s room, to have a chat. She came to a rest delicately on the bed, tilting her head slightly to look first at Katy, and then at Mari, before briefly extending her glow to include them, thus indicating that they were friends.

      Katy and Mari looked at each other over the top of Lily’s head and smiled. Gossip was the same in any dimension.

*

      The thing that had been Garrett Mader was hungry. A simple need—not seething, like that roiling need for revenge that was welling up inside. He shifted his bulk, some small portion of his former self relieved that he still had control over this new form. Encountering the barricade of the closet door, he gave one gigantic thrust against the wood, which yielded with a loud crack and a splintering of the surface. The beast was free.

*** 

      Chapter Two 
 

      _Kelwin Stewart was whistling as he sauntered across the lab and out into the corridor. Job insecurity might be looming in the future, but for the moment there must still be money in the till, because he was still drawing a paycheque. He wondered briefly what had become of Garrett Mader. It was the hot topic around here, with everyone either despairing because they might soon be unemployed, or rejoicing because Mader the Dragon wasn’t around to breathe fire down their necks. He had never been a popular taskmaster—hated had been more like it—but he was the source of all their paycheques, and had therefore had his ass kissed with appropriate regularity.

      Kelwin thought about the shambles in Mader’s lab, and the grim pleasure it had awarded everyone speculating on Mader’s disappearance. The word of the bloodstains had quickly circulated, with reactions ranging from discreet but swiftly concealed delight that the bloodsucking ghoul had been relieved of some of his own bodily fluids, to a kind of unhappy shock that something like that could happen here. Of course, what “that” was, had been the biggest conversational topic of all. 

      Allen Andrews, who’d spent some time on video surveillance that night, swore the blood belonged to some woman Mader had trapped in there. Fred Lariston, who’d also been on video, was maintaining an obstinate silence. Kelwin supposed that some government agency would be arriving soon to determine what had gone on, especially now that Kadocian had turned up. Kadocian was a big money man, and would demand accountability. Kelwin smiled. He didn’t believe Kadocian’s story about being “accidentally” locked in any more than the rest of the staff did. He wondered, since job security was definitely wavering, if Kadocian needed a good bodyguard. He flexed his arm, admiring his muscle. Yes, he knew someone who could definitely fit the bill.

      Kelwin rounded the corner, still absorbed in his own physique. He was abruptly returned to the present by the snapping of wood under his feet. He’d stepped on a fragment of what had once been the door of a supply closet. The wood littered the corridor, scattered over a wide area, and appeared to have been the result of some explosion in the closet. Kelwin was wary; he had seen so many strange things in the past week that he no longer felt secure in his former views of reality. Picking up one of the larger wooden chunks, he crept toward the closet, prepared to run, adrenaline already pumping so that the sound of his own heartbeat was filling his ears. As he neared the gaping doorway, he jumped to the far side of the corridor, whirling to take a defensive stance—holding his primitive weapon at the ready. The closet was empty.

      He stepped toward it, annoyed when his feet slipped on a mucous-like substance. He squatted down to study it briefly, noting that it dripped in green viscous strands from the walls and ceiling of the closet, pooling on the floor where drying crusts were embedded with some type of reddish crystal. He sniffed at the air, appalled at the strong odour of decaying flesh that permeated the interior of the closet. Looking toward the rear of the small cubicle, he saw something that resembled the shed skin of a reptile.  He touched it slightly with the toe of his boot, fascinated in spite of himself. It shifted, and he recognised the salt-and-pepper speckled hair, and a masklike peeling of skin that bore some slight resemblance to his former employer. Repelled by this remnant of humanity, Kelwin backed away, his innards contorted by a sense of horror and revulsion. Inhaling once more, he found he was unable to control the upheaval inside, and he added the remains of his lunch to the already pervasive stench of the ruined closet. 

      Weak and trembling, he backed into the corridor, where he glanced quickly up and down. Eyes dilated, skin dampened with a sheen of sweat, he inched back the way he had come, afraid to encounter whoever was responsible for those ghastly remnants. Then he heard it.

      Around the corner, in the corridor ahead, he could hear the muted slap of some moist object against the floor—rather like that of fresh beef steak being slapped onto a Formica bench. Then came the scraping shuffle of something being dragged along the floor—slow, continuous, and muffled by the crackling of a slimy stickiness that both aided and hindered its progression. Kelwin waited only a second longer, then realised the noise was heading his way. The would-be bodyguard scampered away, slipping and sliding in his terror, back the way he had come so cheerfully whistling just minutes before.

*

      “There is a way, Peter.”  Katy spoke quietly, but Peter could hear the smile in her voice as she came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She nuzzled against his back, enjoying the glowing warmth of him, the emanations from his being that went beyond mere human touch. “Peter,” Katy asked as she cuddled still closer, “do you emanate this warmth for everyone, or is this something special for me?”

      “I don’t know, Katy. I haven’t been cuddled by Trevor for ages now.” He started to undo her arms. “Let me just give old Trev a hug and I’ll let you know.” Peter turned to face her, giving her a wicked smile, the one that emphasised the elfin slant of his eyes. “I have a feeling though,” he said as he kissed her under one ear, nibbling his way across her neck, “that he’d leave me cold.”

      “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Katy whispered, tilting her head back so he could continue his journey across her neck.

      “A—way—to do—what?” Peter interspersed his question with tiny kisses across Katy’s jaw, working his way up to her lips.

      “To get to Thyme’s world without going past the Shimmer—” Katy began, but paused as Peter lifted his head in surprise. She smiled. “You have a slightly guilty look, Mr. Trevick,” she said. “Did you think you were the only mind-reader around here?”

      He held her at a distance, wanting her to understand. “Katy, I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just a way to get our friends home safely. I wasn’t going to bring it up with you until you felt better.”

      Katy nodded, reassuring him. “Peter, Mari and I know you two need some activity. It’s not your fault,” she said, putting her fingers across his lips as he started to protest. “It’s part of your physical make-up. If I’m going to reap the benefits—” she paused to give him a long kiss on the lips—“of this high energy existence of yours, then I’d better be willing to understand your physical requirements.”

      “Katy,” he interrupted, “I’m certainly glad Mader didn’t damage your lips.” He picked her up, then sat down in an armchair where she curled up in his lap. Even though she gave no indication, he sensed that she was experiencing some discomfort. “Your ribs are still hurting you a lot, aren’t they?” he asked worriedly.

      She shrugged it off, trying to reassure him. This new Peter of hers was too aware. “It’s not really that bad, Peter. I’m just a little stiff.” 

      Peter looked at the bruises on her face, before glancing at the bandage on her arm. “That bastard!” he said, his eyes sparking with a red light. Katy shuddered at the sight, distressed at the fury she knew he was feeling. Sensing her alarm, the red died out, to be replaced with that gilt-shot glow that she was coming to love. 

      “He’s gone, Peter. Mari doesn’t think there’s any way he could have survived. And you said yourself that all you could register of him was something like a fading echo.” She looked at Peter seriously.  “I know what he tried to do, but he had mental problems, Peter. I don’t want any of us to hate him—hate can be corrosive after a while. I just don’t want to think about him.  He’s gone, and that’s it.”

      Peter shook his head.  “Mader may be gone, but I’m not quite certain about the other one—”

      “Kadocian?”

      “Yes. He might not be willing to give up yet. And there were numerous other members of Mader’s organisation who had contact with either Trevor or me, Katy.  Interested parties may still turn up. Now, with Trevor and me here, I think we’d be able to prepare for any visitors before they actually arrived—enough ahead of time, anyway, to avoid any encounters. But if we go through the gate with Thyme and the others, that leaves you and Mari unprotected, and subject to the same treatment you were dealt before.” He shook his head at the thought. “I just don’t like it. There’s no way Trevor and I can feel good about leaving right now.”

      The sound of squealing tyres outside caused them both to pause. “Peter, if you don’t do something soon, one of our friends is going to get us all in trouble. Look, it’s been three days. If Kadocian were going to come after us, wouldn’t he have done it by now?”

      Peter looked up as Trevor and Mari came in the room. “Trev,” he asked, “do you think Kadocian would have shown up here by now if he were going to? Are we being naive in believing we’re no longer of interest to them now that Mader’s gone?”

      Trevor shrugged. “You and I are about as naive and gullible as people can get. I’m an electronics engineer, and you’re a plant pathologist. Anything bigger than a computer terminal—or pardon me—a bush, and we’re lost.” He gave Mari a squeeze, then glanced at Katy sitting in Peter’s lap. He turned to Mari, one eyebrow tilted up, and a come-hither smile on his face. “That looks comfy,” he said, plopping down in the other armchair. He tugged Mari’s arm, pulling her onto his lap. He kissed the back of her neck. “Just what the doctor ordered.” 

      Mari elbowed him in the side. “Get serious, Trev. Katy and I have plans.”

      Trevor moved Mari’s hair out of the way to look over at Katy. “How are you, anyway, Katy?” he asked.

      Katy opened her mouth to answer, but Peter interrupted her. “She’s still hurting, but she won’t admit it. So it’s no use asking her. And, as for being gullible, Katy’s an artist.” He placed a kiss on the palm of her hand. “That makes gullible her middle name.”

      Katy frowned, and curled her hand into a fist. She tapped him lightly on the nose. “I think you meant to say ‘insightful’.”

      “Peter, I’ll take good care of Katy,” Mari assured him.

      “But who’ll take care of you?” Trevor asked her, giving her another quick kiss behind her ear.

      “Mader’s people won’t dare to go public again at the hospital. Even if I’m at work, Katy will have my cellular number, and I’m only five minutes away.”

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      Katy was getting annoyed. “And if it comes down to it, I can take care of myself. This is ridiculous! Remember, I was in Mader’s hands for quite a while before you all came to my rescue,” she said indignantly.

      Peter caught Trevor’s look. Both of them were remembering the scene in the lab—Mari lying on her side, bound to a chair, and Katy tied to the operating table, bruised and bleeding heavily from a gash in her arm. 

      “Maybe we’d better not go,” he said worriedly, unconsciously tightening his arms around her.

      Katy groaned in response. “Peter, stop it! You’re hurting me!” There were tears in her eyes. 

      “Katy, I’m sorry!” He looked down at her anxiously. “Are you okay?” 

      Mari came over and knelt down next to the chair. She took note of Katy’s pallor and the dark smudges under her eyes. “Katy? Do you feel like lying down for a while?” Katy didn’t reply; she just nodded, which told Mari more than any comment would have. Mari helped Katy to her feet, which made her turn a shade paler. Mari turned to Peter, who’d stood up to help her. “Peter? Maybe you’d better give her a lift.” 

      Peter carefully picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. He set her down gently on the bed. “Katy,” he whispered. He took her hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

      Katy reached up and pulled his head down. She looked into his luminescent eyes. “I’m just tired, Peter. It’s not anything you’ve done. Believe me.” She kissed him and smiled. “A little sleep and I’ll be much better.” He covered her with a blanket. “Mari will tell you about our plans.”

*

      “How’s Katy doing, Peter?” Trevor asked when Peter re-entered the room. 

      Peter stepped over to the window. “She says she’s fine, but I don’t believe her. She forgets I can sense some of what she’s experiencing.” He slammed his fist into the wall. “I’m such an ass, Trevor! How could I have been so rough with her?!”

      Trevor came up to stand beside him, one hand resting on his shoulder. “I think she’s just tired, Peter. And bruised. If you’d really done any damage, remember I would have sensed it, too.”

      Peter glanced at him. “You really didn’t feel anything, Trev?” he asked anxiously, seeking reassurance. “You really don’t think I injured her?”

      Trevor shook his head. “No, I just think Katy’s bruises are getting to her. Ask Mari. She’ll tell you the truth.”

      Peter was pacing when Mari came in a few moments later. “Is Katy all right, Mari?” Peter turned to face her. “I need to know if I hurt her.”

      “No, Peter, I don’t think you did. I’m wondering, though, if I should have admitted Katy to the hospital when all this happened. I know we’ve been trying to stay more or less undercover, but I’m re-thinking my decision now.” She caught the flash of Peter’s eyes. “No, she’s not worse. And I think my first assessment was correct: Katy’s not in any danger. But she’s not going to get well as fast, what with jumping up every time a tyre squeals outside. And I don’t have the equipment here to verify nothing else is wrong. It’d be more of a precaution than anything else.”

      Peter nodded. “I know I’d feel better knowing you’d been able to examine her a little more thoroughly.” He added hopefully, “She was much more lively this morning than she’s been the last couple of days—”

      “That’s what I mean, Peter. She’s probably fine. It may be that because Katy was more active, she’s more tired as well. But I think she’s still having a lot of pain—even though she doesn’t say much.” Peter nodded his head; it was what he’d sensed as well. “Besides,” Mari continued, trying to lighten Peter’s mood, “I was thinking it might work out even better than Katy being at my place. She could spend several days at the hospital, and then, if you two are still away, she could bunk with me. What do you think?”

      “I can only agree if you sleep at the hospital, too, Mari. I don’t like the idea of you being alone after everything that’s been going on.” Trevor was adamant. “I know it’s not my place to agree or disagree, but if this involves a consensus of everyone concerned, then I need to know you’re safe.”

      “Agreed.” Peter added his vote to Trevor’s.

      Mari chuckled. “It seems ridiculous that I should feel nervous about being alone, but I have to admit we’ve had some pretty unnerving experiences. Or maybe it’s just that I’ve had an overdose of companionship—” she paused to put her arms around Trevor—“and I’ll have to learn how to wean myself.”

      “Maybe you won’t have to,” Trevor said obligingly. He planted a big kiss on the top of her head.

      “Mari, I hate to interrupt, but do you know what Katy meant when she talked about a way to get to Thyme’s world? Did she mean a different way?”

      Mari nodded. “Katy and I had a lovely gossip session with Lily. She said there’s a rather circuitous route that involves visiting an additional dimension.”

      Trevor groaned. Peter muttered, “Oh, no!”

      “Anyway, the idea is, if you make a brief passage through this other place, then you end up on the right side of the gate in Lily’s world. I’m not sure if I have this all right—you’ll have to ask Thyme or Lily about it.”

      “Lily,” Peter and Trevor said simultaneously. Peter added, “Thyme would never give us a straight story.”

      “I think you two are so mean to that poor little guy. Look how much he’s helped us out. And how clever he is! I imagine you’d have a hard time driving a car in his world,” she told Trevor as he snorted with derision.

      “There aren’t any cars in his world. And we know Thyme behaves decently around you, but that’s because he thinks you’re cute, Mari,” Trevor said. “Haven’t you noticed the way he goes all pink and glowy whenever you’re around?”

      “Of course I have, and I can’t help but feel sorry for Lily,” Mari said softly. “She really cares for him.”

      “But he doesn’t appreciate her,” said Peter.

      “I don’t think he appreciates anything,” Trev added. “You never saw him in his rebel mode, Mari, but believe me, it matches his personality much better than this sunshine and flowers role he’s taken on now.”

      Mari thought it was time to get the conversation back on track. “The only problem with this other dimension is that it’s hazardous to fairies. Lily didn’t say much more, except to assure us that everyone else should be able to pass through it without too many problems.”

      “Well, that settles it!” Trevor said. “We go that way and the fairies go straight through this gate.” He smiled, confident that everything was worked out.

      Peter shook his head. “Fat chance!” he said. “Don’t you know Spigot by now? He’d never pass up an opportunity for bravado. You watch! If it involves showing-off, Spigot will be right in there.”

      Trevor looked at Peter. “And unfortunately, Lily will go along for the ride.”

*

      Barry Kadocian’s hand slipped into his pocket once again, idly fidgeting, fingertips tracing the unusual pattern of the many-faceted crystals. He had done it frequently throughout the day. His mind wandered again to one of his initial questions, as to whether or not the crystals were something that he should be touching, but he rejected the thought; after all, they’d been on the floor of the lab, as though Mader himself had been handling them. There’d been a smattering of equipment across the floor—forceps, scalpels, and so on—but nothing to indicate that these crystals had been subject to special handling—no broken beakers or empty vials—nothing that could be specifically identified as connected with them. 

      It was all an excuse, of course. Barry knew from the moment he’d seen them that these were something special. He was aware of the kind of work Mader did—after all, he funded most of it—and the attendant hazards, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He pulled them from his pocket, needing to see them once more. Their sheen fascinated him; their iridescence led him on flights of fancy that he’d no longer known he was capable of. He was like the collector of a rare jewel, a side of himself that had never become apparent before. He turned them over, studying them once again. I wonder if my fascination is a product of my fatigue.

      All I want to do is go home and change. I haven’t been home in days. He shook his head. Things didn’t look too promising. He might be stuck here for a while. Barry strolled back across the lab, looking up at the black hole that used to be the ceiling. Christ! Whatever had done that was not a force he wished to encounter. He glanced down at the crystals in his palm, wondering if there might be some correlation. Deciding the idea was too fantastic, Barry shoved the crystals back into his pocket.

      The place was a mess; not just the lab, but the entire facility. Apparently, Garrett had been such a dictatorial type that everyone had consulted him on all but the most minor matters. Now that he wasn’t here, the place was falling apart. The people came and went, as usual, continuing their individual experiments, but there was no unity and no one for them to consult on even small matters like ordering supplies. Garrett, I don’t know where you are now, he thought, but you were one autocratic son-of-a-bitch. So, Kadocian was stuck here, for the moment. Too much government money that he’d authorised was tied up in this facility to have it go to pieces. If it went to hell, he’d be taken down with it.

      Thinking of Garrett Mader, Barry wondered if the other’s working methods had been that of madman or genius. Considering the delicacy of the operation here, maybe the tight rein Mader had kept on his people was necessary. Employees were kept in a kind of fearful anxiety that went beyond that of being “fired”. It was more of a deep-rooted knowledge, an intimation of serious retribution in response to any information leaks. Some of the employees had been with Mader so long that the inference had resulted in a kind of dissociation between work and home, with no commonality between the two other than the occasional exchanged phone call during work hours. Barry suspected this was also a response to the work many of them were performing: expunging guilt by pretending such things did not exist during off hours. It was a trick he’d often used himself, for although he didn’t personally manipulate microbes or chemicals, he made certain that the work was effectively performed, and geared to government requirements.

      Now there were additional problems. Kelwin Stewart, normally a sensible type, had made a gruesome discovery in some closet, and was screaming horror stories about monsters hunting him down. The man had obviously flipped out, but his discovery was real, and bore some disturbing similarities to Garrett Mader. Barry wondered if Kelwin had flipped out enough to do Mader in, but discarded the idea. What they’d found had been more of a shell than a corpse, but the smell had been enough to overwhelm even the strongest stomachs on their Security team. Kadocian wasn’t certain what to do now. He supposed he should quarantine that corridor, in case this was an unfortunate case of one of their microbes gone astray. He sighed. I’m never going to get home at this rate.

      Too many details were missing. He wondered if the easiest way to resolve things might be to ignore the previous week, absorbing excess expenditure by carefully spreading it across the various departments—pretending the entire thing never happened. Questions might be raised about the unfortunate notoriety that resulted from their attempted retrieval of Trevick, but there had been many reported sightings at the time of “little green men”, and their escapade might be smoothed over under the guise of assessing the situation. It was weak, but they might buy it if he presented it the right way. He sighed. Barry liked the power of his position, but his real role was as a number cruncher, and that’s what he was happiest doing, taking great pleasure in manipulating vast sums of money, knowing that people were dependent upon his good will for the funding of their projects. Garrett had never been subservient like the rest of them, and Barry had known it was just a matter of time before the force of the man’s personality broke through the courteous veneer Mader had always displayed. What Kadocian hadn’t expected, however, had been the way the pressure had eaten away at Mader’s good sense at the end—it had been a foolhardy move to lock his money man away like that. Mader must have really lost it, Barry thought. Too bad he’s gone now, but he would have had to be replaced anyway, he mused.

*

      The object of his musings, although no longer concerned with human attitudes, nevertheless sensed Kadocian’s presence. Lingering threads of memory traced the outrages of Kadocian’s behaviour which, to the overbearing and arrogant Garrett Mader of former days, had been an almost unbearable assault on his ego. He equated the pain he had suffered during his transformation with the presence of his enemies, of whom Kadocian was a minor but nevertheless, irritating member. Eyes sparkling a terrifying red, Mader slithered along the sensory trail leading to this irritant, whose presence engendered a fire within the beast; a demand for retribution based on the few emotions remaining to the man who had once lived as Garrett Mader. 

      The creature entered the lab, remembering that the hunt was best served by silence. Yes, his enemy was there, captured in the past, musing on Mader’s own failure, tearing into the suppurating wounds of Garrett’s past that lingered deep inside.

*

      Barry Kadocian smelled it first. A putrefying, yet fleshy, rot that made his lips curl in distaste. Then he heard it—the nearly silent squelching of some sticky substance, pulling free as it made its way across the floor. The hair stood up on the back of his neck, and he began to breathe more quickly. Somehow, Barry knew—he was absolutely certain—that whatever this was, it was coming for him.

*** 

      Chapter Three 
 

      _Katy awoke after several hours to find Lily perched on the end of her bed. The fairy looked disconsolate, which was emphasised by the light purple tinge to her luminous aura. On realising that Katy was awake, Lily brightened considerably, but she couldn’t totally dispel those soft purple shafts of light. Katy smiled at her, asking gently, “What is it, my friend? Do you have a problem?” Katy was delighted at the idea of being of help to any of them. She’d felt so useless since they’d come home, and more of a demand on their—especially Peter’s and Mari’s—energies than anything else.

      Lily nodded, pleased that the human was perceptive enough to recognise the way she was feeling. Still, she hesitated, looking for the proper words to capture her concerns, without insulting this human friend.

      “Is it Thyme, Lily? Is he planning something that worries you?” Katy wondered whether Lily was worried about visiting that other world that she’d spoken of—the one that possessed some hazard for fairies.

      Lily looked at Katy, crystalline tears of misery apparent. “He is not a patient fairy, Katherine Ryder (Lily loved articulating Katy’s full name). He is weary of small games and wishes to explore. He says the opportunity for expanding his knowledge of human methods, working from a safe base of operations, may never come again.”

      “Oh, no!” Katy muttered softly. She recalled Peter’s remarks about the amount of time their other-world friends had spent watching TV and videos. Thyme had been especially enthralled with a space movie, where extra-terrestrials had used those very words to describe their exploration of earth.

      Katy couldn’t help but blame herself. Everyone had spent so much time seeing to her welfare that they hadn’t been sensitive to the needs of their other friends. If Peter and Trevor, who were only partially of this other dimension, were wearing holes in the carpet from their frantic need for action, then beings who were wholly foreign to this world must certainly be chafing at the forced inactivity. “Have you spoken with Peter?” she asked Lily.

      “I could not. His first concern has been you.” For a fleeting moment, Katy thought she could discern a trace of envy in Lily’s face. “That is the way it should be. Then, before I could talk to him alone, Thyme had already arranged things. For Thyme wishes to go exploring. Tonight.”

      Katy glanced out the window at the waning light. “Where’s he going, Lily? Do you know?”

      Lily nodded her head sadly. “Yes, but I must not tell you. He told the others it is a surprise, but that it is certain to be one they will enjoy.”

      “Do you know how he plans to get there, Lily?”

      Lily looked ashamed. “He wants to take Peter’s car. He insists that we will all fit if we force ourselves.”

      “How can he do that without Peter knowing, Lily?”

      “He has sent Peter and Trevor on—” she struggled for the words.

      “—a ‘wild goose chase’?”

      Lily nodded, pleased that Katy understood.

      “What about Mari? Is she still here?”

      “No,” Lily admitted unhappily. “She thought you would still be asleep, so she asked me to watch over you.” Lily looked down, unable to meet Katy’s eyes. “Thyme told Mari that our poor friend Symmerley was becoming ill from a lack in his food here. I am afraid it was something he saw on your TV.” Lily was shamefaced. “Thyme told her that Symmerley was suffering from a defic-defix-”

      “Deficiency?”

      “Yes, and that Symmerley might not survive the trip through the gate if it were not rectified. He gave her the name of the substance he had viewed on the TV. And she has rushed out to get it.”

      “Did she take Peter’s car?”

      Lily started to cry. “Thyme told her that the engine was broken in some fashion, so she has gone in Trevor’s. It is terrible, Katherine Ryder. What are we to do? I, too, wish to explore, but I am so very frightened that someone will be damaged.”

      Katy spoke firmly. “Lily, where are Peter and Trevor now? Where did Thyme send them on this ‘wild goose chase’?”

      “To find the other gate. He said it isn’t far, and they would know it by the violet and white flashes that the gate emits. This much is true, Katherine,” she said, eager to find some approval in Katy’s eyes once more. “But Thyme knows where the gate is, although he has never used it.”

      Katy interrupted her. “Why did Peter go to find it? Why didn’t he let Thyme lead the way—or one of the others?”

      “Thyme told Peter it was dangerous for fairies to even go near the gate. I am sorry, Katherine, but he also said that Peter needed someone with him in case a being sensed their presence, and came through the gate in their direction.”

      “But I thought that beings from this other dimension were only harmful to fairies!” Katy was concerned now.

      Lily was hesitant. “In most cases, that is true, Katherine. But Thyme insisted that the beings might not necessarily be from that particular dimension—”

      “That part isn’t true, is it, Lily? They’re in no danger, are they?”

      “It could be true, Katherine, but it is very unlikely. But Thyme knew that Peter would take Trevor with him, rather than one of the others, because he is afraid of being eaten.”

      Katy looked shocked. “Peter didn’t say anything like that to me. Do you mean that our friends—”

      Lily shook her head quickly. “No, Katherine, they would never be so impolite as to eat their hosts in another dimension. Do not worry.”

      Katy mulled over this new concern for a moment, then dismissed it. If Lily said there was no danger, then she must assume it was true. Lily interrupted Katy’s thoughts with a slight flutter, which told Katy that she was eager to focus on the true subject of their concern: Thyme. “Where’s Thyme going, Lily? I must know.”

      “He saw pictures of a park on the TV,” she began.

      “A park? Why would he want to visit a park?” Katy asked.

      “It is a special park. Where they have moving things to ride.”

      “An amusement park?”

      Lily smiled. “Yes, Katherine! That is it! An amusement park!” She paused. “It does sound wonderful!” she said dreamily.

      Of course, it would sound wonderful to a fairy, Katy thought. And Thyme, that clever little devil, must realise that it’s the one place where their strange appearances could conceivably pass as costumes; where they wouldn’t be looked on as all that unusual. Katy understood now why Peter and Trevor felt the way they did about their rebellious little friend.

      Lily continued. “And after the park, there is another place—where many animals of your world are caged for others to see...”

      “The zoo?”

      “Is it not a grand plan?” Lily asked, forgetting briefly the hazards as she anticipated so many splendid sights. “Thyme is very clever, is he not, Katy?”

      Katy sighed. “Lily, it is exciting,” she conceded. “But there are so many dangers. What if they’re seen? Some of our friends may end up on display in a zoo—or worse. Please, Lily, we must concentrate on bringing them back here safely.”

      Lily nodded. “That is why I have told you, Katy. Only I do not know if you will be able to help. Thyme did not think you would be well enough to stop him, or he would have found something to occupy you, as well.”

      “It does appear as though it’s up to me, doesn’t it? Did you already try talking to Thyme, Lily? About endangering the others?”

      “I did, but the idea of danger only made Thyme more excited, Katy. He does so love an adventure. That is why I have spoken to you.”

      “So I’m it. Is that what you’re trying to tell me, Lily? I’m the only one who might be able to stop them?” Lily nodded. “Where is Thyme now, Lily?”

      Lily fluttered to the window. She turned to look sadly at Katy. “After Peter and Trevor had left, it was so hard for Thyme to wait,” she tried to explain. “Peter’s car sat there, so empty, awaiting only a moment’s work to set it in motion.” Apologetically, she went on. “As soon as Mari had gone, Thyme could wait no longer. He and the others, except for Symmerley, have already left. Symmerley stayed in case I could get away later. He is a very good friend,” she confided.

      Katy sat on the edge of the bed. Well, what the hell, she thought. She turned to Lily. “Give me a moment to leave a note for the others. Then you, Symmerley and I are going out for the evening.” She rose stiffly. “Do you think Symmerley will allow me to ride?” she asked hopefully.

      Lily smiled, relieved that everything might work out. “He would be honoured,” she said.

*

      Peter was very quiet as he and Trevor trudged along through the thick underbrush. Trevor sensed that Peter was disturbed about something, but he assumed it had to do with Katy, so he left him alone to think things over. Trevor knew that Peter would talk about it when he was ready, and that he would appreciate Trevor’s respect for his silence now.

      When he spoke, however, it was not about Katy. “He’s up to something. Didn’t you notice how easily he agreed to our plans for his return to his own world?”

      Trevor didn’t have to ask who the “he” was. “I wondered a little about that myself. But then I remembered how anxious I was to return to this world, and I assumed Spigot felt the same about his. Homesick.”

      Peter shook his head. “I don’t think so. Spigot loves this place. To him, coming here equates with adventure.”

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      Trevor shrugged his shoulders. “Well, Mari is there, and she’ll talk sense to him if he tries to pull any stunts. Or if rationalisations don’t work with him, she can probably coax him into doing what she wants, anyway. Spigot is all moony-eyed over her,” he said disgustedly.

      Peter elbowed Trevor lightly in the ribs. “He’s not the only one.” He added, “Lucky girl, having a fairy coming on to you. Must do a lot for her ego.”

      Trevor gave him a dirty look. “I’d appreciate it if we’d get back to this so-called gate we’re looking for. Do you believe it’s real?”

      “Only because Lily told us about it first. Thyme seems to lie easily in any dimension. I believe in it—I just don’t understand why Thyme sent us to find it tonight.”

      “I thought he said the lights were so much easier to see at night, and that he had only a vague idea of the proper direction. Wouldn’t it have been easier to have asked Symmerley for a ride, so that we could pinpoint the gate from the air?”

      Peter looked at the sky, seen in patches through the overhanging branches. “It would have been easier but, frankly, every time we take Symmerley up I’m afraid someone will spot us. It’s not your everyday sight, you know, and there’s no way someone could mistake us for a helicopter or an aeroplane up there. Besides—if we were spotted—there’s no way Symmerley could outfly either of those. No, I’d have preferred travelling “Air Symmerley” myself, but I think we have to do it this way.”

      “Spigot did agree to everything pretty readily, didn’t he?” Trevor said a few moments later. He’d been mulling over what Peter had said, and now it was bothering him. “I didn’t really consider it at the time. I was too excited that Spigot and the others would be willing to return home without a fuss, that I went along with his suggestion that we find this gate. Do you think he’s sent us on a wild goose chase for some purposes of his own?”

      “I would, except look over there.” Peter pointed to the purplish hue apparent through the trees ahead. “We may have found our goose.”

*

      Mari was caught up in the urgency of Thyme’s request concerning Symmerley. She didn’t realise that she was about the only one of Thyme’s human friends who were sparing him any good thoughts right now. Mari believed that Thyme’s concern over Symmerley was a manifestation of selflessness that indicated an improvement in his disposition over the “Spigot” Trevor and Peter had described, and she was happy to do what she could to oblige this attractive awakening of his compassionate side. The thought of such a beautiful being as Symmerley deteriorating because of a deficiency in his diet was too much for Mari to accept, especially when she could rectify it so easily with a trip to the market.

      Mari took Trevor’s car, which Thyme had obligingly “hot-wired” for her. She recalled how he had literally “glowed with pride” over his accomplishment. Mari didn’t know where he had mastered this skill, and she was afraid to ask. Somehow Trevor’s keys had been misplaced—probably confiscated by one of Mader’s people—but it meant Mari couldn’t turn off the car during her trip or she wouldn’t be able to start it again. Mari’s own car had been abandoned outside Garrett Mader’s facility, and—she spared a thought for that lovely vehicle of which she had been very fond—she had no doubt it was in pieces or missing by now. Thyme had assured her that Peter’s car was still in need of repairs. Mari could have sworn that Trevor and Peter had tinkered with it, but maybe they hadn’t had any luck getting it going. Mari herself had been too busy tending to the needs of their visitors that she hadn’t been able to give her full attention to much else besides Katy, and—of course, Trevor.

      She smiled as she thought of Trevor and his way of looking at life. She could see that his positive outlook was good for her; he was able to laugh at most things, introducing her to their funny side. Yes, that was good for a doctor who, though concerned with preserving life, saw so much of death. She realised that besides her pleasure in his company, his presence held real benefits to her well-being—an enhancement of herself. “Together we are more than just two people.” She’d heard Katy say it, referring to how being with Peter made each of them accomplish more than either could alone. Now that she’d come to know Trevor, she could really understand what Katy had meant.

      Mari glanced at the luminous face of her watch. Katy was probably still asleep. If not, she assumed Lily would encourage her to take it easy until Mari’s return. Katy seemed to have improved, but the pain she was feeling had Mari concerned. Or maybe I’m somewhat insecure because I haven’t any of my modern hardware to verify my assessment, Mari thought. She sighed. So much of medicine these days was in reading numbers on test results. I wonder what it would be like to practise without any of the paraphernalia that accompanies modern medicine. She shuddered at the thought.

      Mari arrived at the supermarket just as they were locking the doors. Damn! Damn! Damn! Delays. She asked where the nearest all-night market was, and was given an address twenty kilometres down the highway. Damn it, Peter, she thought, you are remote from the modern conveniences. She hopped back in the car and took off. By the time I reach that market, I’ll only be a short way from the hospital, she thought. I should have brought Katy with me, and I could have admitted her tonight. Why don’t I ever think far enough ahead?

*

      Kadocian had never felt more alone in his life. The air is so heavy, he thought, irrelevantly, then realised it wasn’t the quality of the air, but the stiffness of fear that was compressing his lungs, forcing him to breathe in short, rasping gasps. He’d heard that line about being frozen in fear, but it wasn’t any hesitance to escape that kept him seated at the bench—it was the doubtful question pounding through his brain as to whether his feet could carry him away from here—out a door, down a hall, anywhere—in time to escape the one who was stalking him. He lifted his feet off the floor, then scrambled up onto the lab bench, wishing there were someplace higher to climb. Whatever was here, lurked in the dark corners of the room, and from his perch he finally garnered the lingering shreds of courage to seek out his adversary. He could discern something in the shadows; some otherness of pooling black that shuffled softly in the dark.

      Kadocian had never needed to be a sensitive man. Power had come to him so easily, and robbed him of the chance to expand his humanity—to link him with those around him. He had no need for superfluous commonality, for emotional appendages. In fact, in his work, such sentiments would have acted as constraints upon his actions—given him a conscience that he neither needed nor wanted. But his insensitivity could not protect him now. Somehow, he had shed his protective veneer of impersonal unemotionalism in the space of minutes; succumbing to a primitive terror that lacked cunning or decision. He hoped that shock would set in next, for with it would come an uncaring protection from this unknown horror that sat in the darkness near him.

      A sibilant note broke the near-silent heaviness that was thickening the air around him, and he knew that the time for skulking was nearly past. Barry suddenly remembered a time in the jungle, in his army days, when the smell of blood had lingered on the air long after the battle had destroyed both conquered and conquerors. The intensity of hate, emitted by whatever lay in wait for him, was a tangible thing, bringing with it that rich fleshy odour, mimicking life and death in one.

      Recognising the malignancy of the waves of emotion pounding at his person, Kadocian briefly wondered if this were a non-directional outflowing—a universal malice for other human beings which might allow it to be re-directed at another person entering the lab. The thought gave him hope, that someone else might become the focus of this corrosive enmity. If, however, this hate was his—Kadocian’s—alone, he saw only futility in his future, for this strong an emotion would never be quenched by time unless death intervened.

      In some ways, the onslaught of hatred helped to clear away some of Kadocian’s fear. Hatred was a human emotion, and human enemies could be dealt with. He glanced down at the scattered glass and metal that littered the lab bench, selecting a scalpel and a huge glass shard as his weapons. He felt foolish for his momentary loss of resolve, for that brief moment when he had succumbed to primitive emotion, and allowed himself to conjure up a non-human adversary. Barry was ready to handle the situation now. He climbed down from the bench, moving slowly and nonchalantly toward the telephone, all the while preparing himself to control and re-direct this misguided attack.

      He thought about his meagre weapons. He would have preferred a gun. But, maybe the thing awaiting him had limitations, too. Kadocian had utilised the limitations of others his entire life, to better himself and advance his career. While ringing Security for help, he faced the pooling blackness, determined to seek out the limitations of this unstable watcher and limit them further.

      The blackness curled outward, in an explosion of form that unnerved Kadocian, causing him to drop the phone as he moved backwards along the bench. The Thing that oozed toward him had no recognisable form: it was a tumorous mass, patchily fleshed in skin and crystals. Its protruding appendages were a distorted echo of what may once have been arms and legs. There was no mistaking the glowing eyes, which glittered with red-eyed fury as they approached.

      Kadocian was lost in the immensity of his horror, and he didn’t think that he could be any more terrified. But then, he heard what Kelwin had—the slapping sound so reminiscent of meat being flopped down upon a bench—and his eyes were drawn to the source. There, at the base, the creature sported a human limb—distorted and tumorous, like the rest, but recognisable as the calf and foot of a human leg. The limb was an unwanted appendage, as though the making of this thing had been imperfectly finished, and had shed all but this last trapping of humanity. As the apparition moved forward, on a self-made slime derived from open pustules, the limb would slap sideways upon the ground, almost as an afterthought of motion, but compelled to movement just the same.

      Barry Kadocian screamed then, all logical thought gone. It was a high-pitched child’s cry of terror, cracking now and then as his adult tones reverberated through. If the lab had been intact, the sound would have been magnified, perhaps catching the attention of those working behind the heavy glass windows on the second floor, the windows that looked down on Mader’s once-immaculate lab. But the broken ceiling, open to the stars, caught nothing, letting the echoes escape into the night.

      The Thing that was Mader came forward, and Barry moved backwards, until he was cornered by the edge of another lab bench, which had been built perpendicular to the first. He crawled beneath the bench, intent on finding his way underneath and through, but he had left his escape too late, and the Thing had him now. Barry slashed out with glass and scalpel, registering a sharp stab of satisfaction as the knife dug deeply into one of the appendages. Satisfaction that was quickly replaced by horror as the glass broke against the armouring crystals, and the knife—left within the wound—suddenly extruded outwards. It all but popped out of the sore as a volcanic outflow of pus burst out of the incision, to be rapidly sealed by a thick mucousy plug. Kadocian briefly registered the clang of the scalpel to the ground as the creature surged forward once more.

      The Thing intended to savour Barry Kadocian—to use him slowly—to satisfy both its hunger and the need for retaliation that was coiling so corrosively within. After dragging his whimpering form from beneath the bench, Mader drew the man close against his weeping pustules—forcing him into an embrace of tumoured and crystalline unevenness—and deriving a dark spasm of humour from the sensations of repulsion emitted by Kadocian’s writhing form.

      The crystals began to glow, as Kadocian was hit by a searing blast that should have burned him, but, inversely, chilled him to his core. Mader fed, stealing those elements he needed to sustain his being: carbon, iron, calcium. He sublimated these—forcing them into a gaseous form that he could assimilate and re-solidify within his own misshapen body. Bubbles were formed, some passing into Kadocian’s bloodstream—others travelling outwards, intra—and inter-cellularly—a physically-induced boiling in defiance of his body’s chemical functioning. Kadocian suffered, painfully experiencing this drawing away of his being; this stealing of his life’s chemistry through cell membranes and layers—the filtered withdrawal of elements long-deposited in his system. The disappearance, through his tissues and out, of those substances that had once secured his continued existence. His life being withdrawn through the surrounding air and into the creature that held him.

      The forced closeness—the physical and chemical linking—revealed the truth to Barry Kadocian: this Thing using him, absorbing part of him away, was Garrett Mader. A brief flare of anger exploded in his brain before he passed out—a momentary reversal of their positions in which Kadocian demanded: why me? In the same moment he knew the reason: this was Mader’s means of redressing the inequalities of power—this was retribution.

*

      Katy followed Lily down the steps, and out to where Symmerley moved restlessly, his brighter-than-white coat a focal point in the near-dark. He was moving his wings in an agitated fashion, tossing his head up and down as he fought the need for activity that their flight would soon appease. Katy felt for him, seeing the cost of his inactivity, wondering if this was how it had been for Peter and Trevor. She hoped that their need was not as great as Symmerley’s, for asking them to restrict themselves, to attempt to adjust to operation within human time frames and rates of activity, would therefore require a greater sacrifice than either she or Mari had the right to ask of them; a sacrifice that would involve limiting their metabolic processes, in order to adapt to the needs of their women.

      Symmerley calmed at Katy’s approach, bending one knee and lowering his head, signifying both his willingness to carry her and his recognition of her diminished ability. Apparently, Katy thought, Symmerley must be aware of the hazards facing the others, and is as anxious as Lily to initiate a rescue. Even with Symmerley’s kneeling posture, Katy found it too difficult to mount, requiring Symmerley to lower himself almost to the ground before she could pull herself aboard. Afterwards, she sat quietly, waiting for the pain in her side to ease, and Symmerley, sensing her discomfort, held himself still until the ache had faded to the background. Lily fluttered around, sympathetic and uneasy, wondering if she had asked too much of this accommodating human. Katy smiled at her, letting her know all was well, as Symmerley gracefully stood.

      In the next moment, Katy could feel Symmerley’s great muscles tightening beneath her. In consideration of her physical condition, Symmerley avoided a running start to gain lift. Instead, he moved his massive wings up and down, carrying them upwards from a standing start.

      Katy was thrilled. The action of the great wings blew her hair up and out behind her, and as they moved forward along the windstream she could taste the sweet purity of the evening air. Wisps of early dew settled in her face and hair; tiny droplets that drew forth tendrils to curl gently around her face. As they flew still higher, the sun that had slid away beyond the horizon long before was caught, to flare for a few brief moments before disappearing into the cavern of night. Crystalline stars appeared then, but Katy had only moments to enjoy their purity in the high clarity of the night sky, before she and Symmerley began their descent, to mingle with the somewhat murkier brightness of artificial light. Katy realised they had arrived at their destination.

      Symmerley knelt at the outskirts of the gaudy glitter and gaiety that comprised the amusement park; a feature that such places shared the world over. Whereas Katy felt only weariness and a nervous edginess over their successful infiltration, she could nevertheless appreciate the excitement to which Symmerley and Lily had succumbed. She realised that only her presence was acting as a constraint. Katy looked around quickly, pleased to discover that the brighter lights of the carnival atmosphere had ensured their concealment in a shadowed patch, and they were in the fortunate position to be within the walls but outside the areas of heavy foot traffic.

      Katy recognised that Symmerley would never be content to remain hidden while she enacted a search. He was as excited about their venture as any of the others. Camouflage was in order, then, and Katy searched for some means of covering those great wings, in order that Symmerley’s essential horsiness could be emphasised. If he were to fold his wings against his body, as he was prone to do in sleep, they could probably succeed in concealing some of his otherness.

      Katy looked at Symmerley and Lily. Lily retained her firefly-like aura, and both of them possessed those lovely glittering irises. Katy shook her head, then smiled as she noted the quivering excitement of her friends at the spectacle awaiting them. Gesturing them to deeper concealment, she sought out a means of covering Symmerley’s wings.

      She found it in the form of a large mat, that had been left drying over a railing in one of the service areas. After glancing carefully about, to ensure that no one was looking her way, Katy pulled the heavy red rubber-backed rug to the ground, jumping when it slapped loudly onto the concrete. She was forced to drag it down the pathway, not having the strength to carry the thing to where Lily and Symmerley impatiently waited. Katy was panting by the time she arrived, and Lily darted anxiously in small circles, uncertain what to do. Katy finally reached out and gently pushed the fairy down, closer to the ground, where her unusual aura might be lost among the many floodlamps lighting up the landscaping.

      “It’s all right, Lily,” Katy told her. “But Symmerley will have to co-operate. I need to hide his wings and, whether he likes it or not, he’s going to have to keep them folded. Can you explain it to him, please, before we all get into trouble?” She could see that there were numerous passers-by, many of them within six or seven metres of their hiding place, and more than a few curious looks had been sent in their direction.

      Symmerley gracefully knelt in front of Katy, and she yanked the mat over him. Staring at it critically, she shook her head. “I don’t know, Lily. It doesn’t make much of a costume.” Lily smiled, and perched on the great beast’s back. Using her glow to illuminate some of his flashing whiteness, and enhancing her wings with gilt-shot sparks, she pirouetted for Katy. “Lily, that does look better, but you’ll have to resist moving around too much. You look too real.”

      “Too real?” Lily inquired. “What does this mean, Katherine? ‘Too real’?”

      Katy sighed. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Lily, but amusement parks are designed to inspire thoughts of other worlds, not to provide proof of their existence. People want to be left with a belief, not a certainty. Then they can take that belief as a certainty or not, depending on their inclination.”

      “But wouldn’t it be better for them to know that I exist?”

      Katy shook her head. “Then they’d probably be afraid. Because it’s one thing to imagine things beyond the boundaries, and out of human control, and another to be confronted with them.” Lily plunked down on Symmerley’s back, obviously confused and somewhat annoyed at the contradictions in human behaviour. Katy smiled at her understandingly. “I don’t understand humans myself, Lily, and I’m one of them.” She could see that Lily was still slightly offended, and began to feel irritated herself. After all, I’d rather be anywhere than here right now, thought Katy. “Let’s just do this, all right, Lily? You look fine,” she snapped.

      Lily was immediately repentant. “Oh, Katy, I am sorry. I will strive to remember that humans are not sensible.”

      Katy smiled at that, pushing her irritation to the background. “And if humans aren’t sensible,” she muttered to herself, “what does that make fairies?”

*** 

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