Dangerous Designs Read online

  ***

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

  "Tell me what happened today."

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

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

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

  "Is that a problem?"

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

  "Oh?"

  Refusing to answer, Storey opened the front door.

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

  Storey rolled her eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "I've noticed."

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

  "No." She led the way to her room.

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

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

  "So where's the stylus?"

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

  "Right. Where is it?"

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

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

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

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

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

  "Now."

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

  A light bulb went off in her head.

  She was an idiot...because that's exactly what it was. The pencil had to be magic. How else could she go through doors she'd drawn with it?

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

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

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

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

  "Am not." He turned the pages, studying each intently, his face filled with conflicting emotions contradictions. Something about his demeanor made her uneasy. She kept her eyes trained on him as he checked out her book.

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

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

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

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

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

  "Faint?" he cried out in horror.

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

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

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

  "Unleashed thousands of demons from the world in between."

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "Like what you told me earlier down by the mine made sense?" He closed his eyes briefly. "You trusted me to listen to you and now I'm asking you to listen to me. It won't take long. We could be there and back in an hour. I need you to show these drawings to someone."

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

  "Not far."

  "Not far doesn't mean much."

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

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

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

  "Look at it closer," he ordered.

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

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