“Um, no,” I said, blinking several times. “I, uh… He told me to meet him here. Sort of. Hold on.”
I pulled my phone from my jacket pocket, suddenly feeling a little out of place as I noticed the plethora of crisp white school shirts and neat black jackets worn by the Science Center employees. My tight jeans and leather boots and jacket didn’t help me fit in much. I went through my call history and tapped on Wade’s number… which was disconnected.
“Son of a…”
My frustration was rearing its ugly head once more, and I stifled a curse to spare the nearby kids my foul mood, while Ellen and Jane offered a pair of awkward smiles in return.
“You’re late.” Wade’s voice startled me.
I turned around, then stilled at the sight of him, an inch too close for my comfort.
“No, I’m not. You said noon,” I shot back.
“You’re three days late.” He kept his calm demeanor, though his voice cut through me like a knife. It was his intention to make me feel guilty, and, though I’d never tell him, he was succeeding in making me regret delaying the visit. I could’ve avoided all the weirdness with his “magic tricks” had I simply called him the next day.
Then again, hindsight was always 20/20.
“I didn’t commit to anything, from what I remember,” I said, crossing my arms. I wasn’t going to give in, and, judging by his emotions echoing through me, he seemed to like that. The man was a walking contradiction, clearly.
“You’ll learn soon enough what the rules are,” he replied. “Anyway, you’ll have to forgive Ellen and Jane—they’re both new here. The Center is going through a restructuring of sorts, and they’ve just joined our team.”
He gave them a polite nod, and they both blushed and fluttered their eyelashes at him in response. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, by then well aware that Wade was eye candy to these girls. Ellen gasped, then covered her mouth with her hands.
“I am so sorry,” she replied, as if suddenly remembering who he was. “You’re from the Archive and Library Department, aren’t you?”
“Mm-hm,” Wade confirmed. “I’ll take it from here, ladies. Thanks.”
He motioned for me to follow him. We left the reception desk and headed through the main hall. I glanced at the wall-mounted signs and, based on the right and left turns we took, we were walking toward Kid City, the museum area dedicated to children under the age of five.
“So, what’s up with that weirdo card trick?” I asked, stuffing my hands in my jacket pockets.
My gaze wandered around, occasionally settling on framed photographs of various space missions. The moon shots were particularly fascinating, dramatic black-and-white contrasts reminding me of how tiny we were, how insignificant our world was when compared to the rest of the universe.
“I think it deserves a bit more appreciation than that,” Wade said. “It does require a certain amount of skill to pull off.”
“Is that how you get girls to come see you?”
The sideways glance he gave me was a warning sign. Not that I took it seriously—after what he’d put me through, he was going to put up with this, and more. Wade Crowley wasn’t going to be the one to knock me down, and I sure as heck didn’t want him to even get the opportunity to try. It was what I’d learned to do whenever I was brought into a new foster home with more than one kid already on the premises—you acted tough; you held your ground; you showed them you couldn’t be intimidated.
Otherwise, they trampled you worse than a herd of panicked elephants.
“What am I doing here, Wade?” I asked, noticing the Kid City sign ahead, in big, colorful letters, just above the entrance.
“I thought I made that perfectly clear the other night,” he replied, looking ahead. “You’re a witch. And the coven wants to meet you.”
“In Kid City?”
The room was built to resemble an actual city, with building cutouts and a pretend road stickered onto the floor. There were plenty of kids crawling around, too. I counted at least three who seemed to enjoy chewing on the plastic scenery. The others were busy running around and giggling, playing with huge toy blocks and riding the red fire truck on the side of the road.
I could tell Wade was a bit embarrassed as we followed the cute little highway, dodging rogue toddlers while the parents watched from the sides. Before I could further tease him about his presence here, all the childish emotions from Kid City rammed into me with unexpected force.
All of a sudden, I was five kinds of excited, but also amused and angry. I glanced over my shoulder and noticed two kids fighting over a seat at one of the computers. They both wanted to play and had little respect for the wait-your-turn policy. I felt it all, and it was a little too much. Children were way more intense than adults. Their emotions were raw and amplified, often cutting my breath short.
I started walking faster, and Wade noticed.
“Don’t like kids much?” he asked, and stopped between “The Factory” and “The Supermarket.”
“Can you just tell me where we’re going?” I snapped.
On the other side of the “road,” there was a metallic board on which magnet letters had been mounted. Two kids were shuffling them around, and my attention was temporarily drawn to the letters’ bright colors, before I realized what they spelled: ordo ab chao. The kids both looked at me, two smiling boys, while I rummaged through my scarce knowledge of Latin. Unlike many, I had the chance to study some during high school.
“From chaos comes order,” I muttered. Yup, add that to the list of weird.
I didn’t get a chance to ask Wade about the letters, as a four-year-old girl clamped on to my leg, giggling and refusing to let go.
“Play with me! Play with me!” she said, her curly brown hair framing her cute, round face.
For some reason, this little girl actually liked me. I gave her a smile, then shook my head, while Wade watched the exchange with glimmering amusement.
“I can’t, sweetie. This guy here wants me to go with him,” I replied gently.
She looked up at Wade, then frowned.
“Do you know him?” she asked, pouting.
“Not really, no,” I said.
“My mom says to never talk to strangers. Not even if they give you candy.”
The shadow of a smile flickered over Wade’s face, and I shrugged in response.
“He didn’t give me any candy.” I sighed.
The little girl scowled at Wade, then got up and released my leg so she could ball her hands into little fists and rest them on her hips in a reprimanding posture. “You should give her candy!”
“I will, I promise.” Wade nodded, trying hard to keep a straight face.
“Oh, wow. Call me crazy, but you two would look great in an AMBER alert, Wade,” I said.
Wade shook his head slowly, clearly displeased with my comment, then walked toward the emergency exit door to our left. I followed him through, and we reached a small corridor with a secondary staircase. There was another door right ahead, and Wade stopped in front of it.
“I’m going to overlook the fact that you just basically called me a child abductor right now, and welcome you to the San Diego Coven,” he said, his tone flat as he placed his palms on the door at shoulder height.
“We’re in Kid City, Wade. Did you forget to take your medication this morning, by any chance?” I retorted, still not sure what we were doing. At least there were several more feet between me and the kids now, and my nerve center was no longer controlled by the emotions of four-year-olds.
“Aperi Portam,” Wade said quietly, and the ten rings on his fingers lit up red.
He pushed the door open, on which there was a janitor sign, then walked through. There was nothing but darkness ahead. Things were getting weirder with each second that passed, but it was too late to turn back. I figured I could always kick him in the nuts if he tried something funny.
I walked in after him and quickly came to a halt, as I realized that everything around me had suddenly changed. The janitor door closed behind us with a loud clang, and I stood in awe, smack in the middle of a massive hallway. It stretched far and wide, with dozens of large, black wooden doors on both sides. The ceiling was high, beautifully composed with interconnected arches, neo-Gothic relief sculptures, and gilded details, in eye-popping contrast to the creamy marble walls and dark blue floor. It was an architectural masterpiece all by itself, and I could only imagine what the other rooms looked like.
One thing didn’t make sense, though.
“Wade, what’s happening here?” I murmured, gawking at the dragon-like sculptures holding up the arches. “I’ve been all over this place, repeatedly, and this… this wasn’t here. It’s not supposed to be here.”
“It isn’t,” Wade replied, turning to face me. “This, technically speaking, doesn’t exist in the real world. Welcome to the San Diego Coven, Harley Smith.”
“This doesn’t exist, yet I’m standing right in the middle of it.”
“Call it an interdimensional pocket,” he said with a shrug. “We couldn’t exactly build our coven where the humans could see it or easily access it, so we devised these… bubbles that exist between dimensions.”
He motioned for me to follow him, pointing at the end of the hallway.
“A world within our world,” I breathed, trying to take it all in.
Fortunately, I’d been dealing with my otherworldly abilities since I was seven. I’d gone well past the stage at which something like this could shock me to the point where I’d crumble and lose my mind, simply rejecting this new reality. Nevertheless, it still wasn’t easy to digest.
One too many questions fluttered through my head, but I held my tongue, knowing that I’d get my answers soon. Hopefully, I’d get them one at a time.
“You’re probably wondering how this all works,” Wade said. “Space is not linear, nor is it finite. It can be bent to fit our needs, if we know how to do it. Most importantly, achieving such feats requires tremendous amounts of energy. Everything you see around you, in fact, is energy solidified into matter.”