Broken Dreams (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 5) (29 page)

To Ping and Sam, she said, “Stay here and keep an eye on that thing. If you see the mist leave the shop, give me a holler. We’ll be back in a sec, maybe two.”

“What are you up to?” Sam asked. He squeezed into the spot where she had been standing, pressing his face into the crack between the doors.

“Not enough time to explain. Just a little experiment,” she said. “Watch it until I return, and don’t do anything stupid.”

To her father, she said, “Keep your eye on him. This is the part where he goes off and does the exact opposite of what I say.”

She and the other Ping made their way through the cluttered foyer and disappeared into the hall leading to the steam laboratory.

Ping leaned over Sam’s back to peer through the door. Sam glanced up at him and said, “I don’t understand what the Aphotis is getting from fusing itself with the machinery in there.”

“Perhaps he is looking for something that will give him an advantage,” Ping said.

Dr. Lantern stepped closer to hear them over the noise. “An advantage to do what?”

Ping straightened. “To do what Mara said. To somehow merge itself with the Consciousness used to create the child she carries, to extend its own existence.”

“You think such a thing is possible?” Dr. Lantern asked. “It seems so …”

“Far-fetched?” Ping asked. “I agree it seems so, but this creature did possess Abby, which, in a way, is what led us here. Maybe taking a closer look will convince you it is possible.” He pointed through the doors over Sam’s head.

Dr. Lantern leaned and looked.

The table saw’s teeth struck something metal, sending sparks showering across the shop with a cringe-inducing stutter and grind. Smoke poured from its casing, overwhelming the thin black-blue mist now barely visible.

Pointing to it, Sam said, “I think it’ll blow.”

As if he’d spoken on cue, the saw exploded, sending its round blade flying at the door like a Frisbee with teeth. Striking the door frame to the right of Sam’s head, it sunk three inches into the wood.

“Whoa. I wonder if he did that on purpose,” he said.

His father looked down at his son. “You think it would kill you? Intentionally?”

“I don’t know but look. I think the Aphotis is coming from the saw,” he said.

The blue-black vapor flowed from the fractured saw, swirled over the drill press and intensified. More vapor seeped from the drill, which stopped whirring. Across the room, the vertical conveyor came to a stop, startling in the silence it caused. Blue-black mist poured from the conveyor and spun in the air above the center of the floor.

In the hall, standing back from the door, Ping cocked an ear and said, “What’s happening? Why did everything go quiet?”

“The Aphotis came out of the machinery, three different tools,” Sam said. “It’s just floating above the shop in a one big cloud.”

“Wait. I think it’s doing something,” his father said.

Inside, the cloud spread itself above the shop in a flattened layer, like a bank of fog. Tendrils of mist reached out and curled around the catwalk, through the mider conveyor and beyond what could be seen from the doors. The mist clung to every surface, caressing every nook and cranny.

“It’s searching, seeking something,” Sam said.

The mist rolled in on itself, billowed to the right side of the shop, as if pushed by a draft. The motion sped up as it merged into a flattened funnel, sucked from the space above the shop floor to some single point beyond the catwalk and the smelter.

Just as the last of the blue-black fog disappeared, Sam opened the door and stepped inside. A step behind him, his father placed a hand on his shoulder, and said, “Where do you think you are going?”

“After it. Mara said to watch it. If we just stand here, we’ll lose track of it.” He pointed to the right, below the catwalk. “What’s back that way?”

His father said, “Nothing. It’s the back wall of the house.”

Ping stepped into the shop. “I’m assuming an exit leads to the large tent on the back lawn. Is that correct?”

Dr. Lantern nodded. “There’s a door and a large bay door. Judging by the position of the tent, both exits lead to it, which would make sense as they fabricated parts here and assembled the project out there.”

“And you don’t know the nature of this project?” Ping asked.

“No. I kept out of Mara’s way until she wanted to show me her work,” he said.

“But it would be a safe assumption that whatever they are building out there is some kind of machine. Correct?”

He nodded and said, “I would expect so.”

“Cool. Let’s go take a look,” Sam said. “We know whatever is in there has wings. I’m still guessing it’s a spaceship even though Mara says the other Ping denies it.”

“Spaceship? Is that possible?” Ping asked, looking at Dr. Lantern.

He shrugged. “Mara could build anything she set her mind to, but she never mentioned an interest in spaceships. Whatever’s out there, she won’t be pleased if we violate her privacy.”

“So which Mara do we want to piss off?” Sam asked. “The one with secrecy issues, who isn’t here to yell at us, or the one on her way back in a minute, expecting us to know where the Aphotis has gone?”

“Considering the circumstances, I think it’s reasonable to make sure the creature hasn’t damaged anything. But just a quick look. That’s all.”

After walking under the catwalk, Dr. Lantern led them to the doors.

In the steam lab, the other Ping plucked the lightbulb from the board and held it up for Mara to examine. She shook her head and pointed to a larger, rounder one at the bottom of the board. Setting the first bulb on the counter, Ping removed the one she indicated and held it up.

“Yes. That one looks about right,” she said. “Do you have another like that?”

He frowned and said, “You need two of them?”

“When you’re dealing with something as fragile as a lightbulb, it’s always good to have a backup. Don’t you think?”

“I suppose. I think there’s another one around here somewhere.”

He duck-walked bent over while looking on the shelves under the counter. After waddling on the inside of the doughnut-shaped counter for twenty paces, he stopped, reached and straightened, holding a second bulb, identical to the one in his other hand.

“Now, how do you remove the base or the socket part?” Mara asked.

He handed one to her and grasped the one he still held with both hands. Turning the brass socket a quarter-turn, the glass bulb slipped out and separated. He held up each part.

“How tight is the seal on this when you put them back together?” she asked.

“The seal is airtight, good enough to contain kerosteam, which is what it is designed to do,” he said.

“Great,” she said. “Put that back together and give it to me, and grab the sample containers. We must get back to the fabrication shop before the Aphotis takes off or, worse, attacks.”

Ping did as she asked and followed her from the circular counter to the double doors of the lab. “I would feel better if we took a little time to conduct at least one experiment to see if this idea of yours will work. So many variables are at play that the whole thing may fail miserably.”

Since he had a sample container in each hand and she carried two lightbulbs, Mara used her foot to close the lab doors.

“I told you. No time for experiments. I’ve got less than twenty-four hours to do something about the Aphotis, or you and your Mara will be stuck with him. Since she has never met an Aphotis, I’m thinking it might be best for me to clean up this mess before I leave. This is the only hope we have.”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“We’ll have to wing it.” She nudged him down the hall with an elbow. “Don’t dawdle, man.”

“Mara!” Sam called from the end of the hall, just steps from the front entryway. “It’s got Dad! Hurry!” He turned and disappeared beyond the staircase.

Mara jogged after him, leaving the other Ping trailing behind, calling after her, “I thought it couldn’t possess people in this realm.”

After passing the stairs, she turned right and found both doors to the fabrication shop wide open. Beyond them, her brother dashed to the right and disappeared from view. Without stopping, she followed, passing under the catwalk, finding an open door.

A teeth-rattling roar—a combination of beast and locomotive—shook the air, startling Mara so much, she froze two feet from the door.
What the hell was that?

The other Ping ran up beside her and said, “You are not supposed to go in there,” he said. “Mara will be upset.”

“She’ll have to get over it. What exactly did she build in there?” she asked.

He was about to answer when his counterpart’s voice screamed from beyond the door, “Mara, we could use some help in here.”

The floors shook like an earthquake. Then stopped. Then shook. Then stopped.

Mara staggered to the door, used the frame to keep her balance. The intermittent quaking reminded her of something. As she swung herself into the doorway, she remembered.
The footsteps of the dragon on the streets of Oregon City
.

She looked up and gasped.
It couldn’t be.

Beneath the rippling roof of the giant tent, the dragon had one talon pinning the struggling, prone body of her father to the ground and the other swatting at Ping. Only this one was a massive brass dragon, which flared its glistening wings and retracted its long neck with a metallic screech. Its head swung toward Mara, like it wanted her to get a look at the familiar mane of spikes and scales that framed its face. Red eyes blazed at her. Its jaws opened, showing off pikes for teeth, until they were masked by the flames that poured out in a stream at her.

Mara pushed the other Ping through the door, pulling him to the side so the blast of fire shot past them. She shoved the lightbulbs at him and said, “Why the hell would your Mara build a mechanical dragon?”

“To ride. She said the copter was boring, and she wanted to do something whimsical,” he said as he took the bulbs, juggling them against his arms along with the sample containers.

“Whimsical? You have got to be kidding me. I’m definitely leaving that girl a nasty note before I go,” she said.

Pushing off against the wall, Mara stepped toward the door, and Ping grabbed her arm. “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t fight a dragon by yourself.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she said. Looking down at his cargo from the lab, she added, “Take care of that stuff. We may need it in a while.”

As she ran through the door, Sam called to her from the left leg of the dragon where he stood over their father, still pinned beneath its claws. Ping was on the opposite side of the creature, waving his arms to draw its attention from them.

Without lifting its left leg, the dragon pivoted its body, swinging its brass-plated tail around its hindquarters and slicing through the cloth side of the tent. Despite the loud ripping sound, Ping did not turn to see the tree-trunk-size appendage swinging at him.

“Behind you!” Mara yelled.

He turned as the massive tail bore down on him, and he exploded into a puff of gray dust.

The dragon reared onto its hind legs, its head tearing through the roof of the tent. Extending its wings, it sliced through what little remained of the tent. Shaking its body and twisting, the beast—or machine—tossed aside the limp canvas that clung to it. As it turned to face away from the manor, its talon contracted around Dr. Lantern’s chest, plucking him from the ground. In a one-legged hop, cradling him to its chest, the dragon took off across the back lawn, flapping its wings and jumping into the air.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Mara screamed.

She extended her hands before her, and her father’s body disappeared in a wisp of steam. With a disoriented look, he reappeared in a second wisp a few feet from Mara. The dragon lurched sideways as it ascended, compensated and arched to the west, flying over the roof of the manor and out of sight.

“Are you all right?” Mara asked her dad.

He looked down at himself and said, “I think so. Just a few scratches. How did you do that?”

“I’ll explain when we have more time.”

Nearby, the whorl of dust that had been Ping spun itself into the shape of a man and solidified, looking like a statue. A second later, he snapped to life and walked over to them.

Dr. Lantern stared at him as he approached. “What was that all about?”

“Panic dispersal. It’s an evolutionary trait of all animals in the realm in which I originate,” he said. “It’s interesting that it still works, even though my physical body remains in the receptacle.”

“Where is Sam?” Mara asked.

“He’s over here,” the other Ping said, lifting a section of canvas tent siding. Sam lay on the ground beneath, face up, with a large scratch over his left eye and a trickle of blood running down the side of his face.

Everyone ran to him, but Mara got there first and knelt over him. Her father put his hands on her shoulders, and she moved out of the way. Placing a finger on the side of Sam’s neck, Dr. Lantern found a strong pulse. Sam’s eyes snapped open, and he pushed himself up from the ground.

“Sit up slowly,” his father said. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I think the dragon kicked me or smacked me or something,” Sam said. He rubbed his head. Feeling the blood on his fingers, he lowered his hand and looked at it. “I’ll be fine.”

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Mara said. “You came and got me, then ran right into the path of the dragon with no thought for anyone but yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Sam said. “Look.” He held out his hand, and the blood faded away. So too did the scratch on his head. “You can only be hurt in this realm if you think it.”

Mara smacked him on the back of the head. “That’s no excuse for scaring the crap out of me.”

Standing next to the counter in the fabrication shop where the other Ping had placed the items they’d gotten from the steam lab, Mara stared down at them because she didn’t want to look her father in the eye. He was in full-on parental mode, and she didn’t have time to dance around it.