Sacrificia part four

made a sociopath multiple murderer cry once,” I said. I didn’t tell her that it had been one of the most famous serial killers of all time. She didn’t need to know that I’d been alive before he’d been born.

“When did you meet a multiple murderer?” Juliet asked.

“When is not important as much as where,” I pointed out. “I used to visit people in prison as a kid, with my grandma, when they didn’t have anybody for Christmas and stuff. It would make them feel better to have visitors and be able to share a homemade pie or cake with their buddies and it made us feel better and taught me lessons of what never to do. My getting caught shoplifting at the age of six is what started it all,” I lied. I used to visit convicted felons who’d been wrongly accused or innocent and do some of those things after I became friends with them, but I’d mostly become friends with people on death row and die in their place, but no more. Getting hanged or electrocuted hurt like hell, and I didn’t like it. I’d even been put in front of a firing squad once. I had the bullet scars over my heart, and in my thigh and stomach, not that anyone ever saw those scars regularly though. The only scars most people saw were the ones on my arms, legs, feet, and around my neck, and on my face, and only then in the summer mostly, when I couldn’t cover up with sweaters or makeup because it was too hot.

I’d lived in Fiji for a while and it had been the worst. I’d worn only a couple of strapless dresses and bikinis the whole time I was there. People always stared at me. I moved after two months to keep myself safe. Canada was great. Summer only lasted a couple of months and winter lasted almost eight months and spring and fall were cool. I’d bought more clothes in Canada than I’d owned in my whole life before I moved to Backwater.

I sat back on the couch again leaving Juliet to do whatever she wanted. She wiped down the tables, restacked the books in alphabetical order, and untangled a large ball of necklaces, chains, and other jewelry before we had another customer. I didn’t bother to get up because it was one of my regulars and she’d spend half an hour looking at stuff to see if there was anything new before she picked anything out.

She walked out with a bag load of candles, incense, and a journal. I certainly didn’t need to be present for something like that. I decided to take a nap on the couch and let Juliet do her job and get paid. I laid down on the couch and closed my eyes and before I knew it Juliet was shaking me awake, telling me it was 1:00 and she was going to lunch.

I woke up wearily, walked Juliet to the door, locked it behind her, and decided to go back to my kitchen to eat something. I stumbled a little walking back, made a sandwich, cleaned up my dishes, ate in silence and walked back in to the store, locking the kitchen door behind me.

I wasn’t even paying attention when I turned to unlock the front door and saw something out of the corner of my eye. It wasn’t uncommon to see strange things that moved in my store, out of the corner of my eye, but this was different. Whatever it was moved unlike anything I’d seen and as soon as my mind processed what it was Michael Angelus came in to focus and he was swinging a massive, black edged sword at me.

I ducked, letting my years of training and instinct take over and got out of the way in time to turn and see Michael taking another swing at me. I blocked his arm with my wrist, punched him in the stomach and took the sword away from him with a simple twist of my hand. I then kicked him hard in the head and knocked him out. He dropped to the floor like a stone.

I picked one of his feet up, dragged him back to the kitchen, and tied him to my kitchen table with some heavy duty rope that I had left over from the renovation and couldn’t bring myself to throw out. It turns out I was right to keep it. I tied the last knot and made sure Michael wasn’t going anywhere. He was tied to the top of the table and the table weighed 300 pounds. Compounded with his own weight he wouldn’t get up until I let him.

I got a glass of water from the sink and threw it on him. He woke up with a sputter. I pointed the sword at his nose. “Do you mind telling me why you brought this sword in to my home and business intent on killing me?”

“You can’t be her. You’re an imposter. She died centuries ago!” Michael yelled expecting me to understand.

“And exactly who are you talking about? Because I can assure that I am no imposter,” I pointed out.

“Gabriel. You can’t be Gabriel,” Michael said with a struggle.

“I assure you that I am. Who are you and how do you know me?”

“I am Michael Angelus. I am like you. We met in 1399 B.C. We fell in love. If you really were Gabriel you would remember me. You died in 1340 B.C.”

“I don’t know you Michael Angelus, beyond yesterday when you walked in my store. I was born around 1327 B.C., maybe earlier but I don’t remember. I grew up in a little tribe in Norway, was raised by my grandmother until she died when I was 18. I left my tribe in 1308 B.C. and started traveling. I haven’t lived anywhere for more than six months until I moved here. Is that how you found me? Was it because I stayed in one place long enough for you to track me down?” I asked.

“I would have tracked you down by the time you were 18 if it were that. I really, truly just stumbled upon Backwater in my travels and came in. I recognized you almost immediately as I walked in yesterday, but I had to be sure so I came back. I was positive that you weren’t my Gabriel when you failed to recognize me. You had to be an imposter if you didn’t know me. That’s why I came to kill you,” Michael explained. “It’s just wrong for someone, anyone, to have your face and be walking around and not knowing who I am or even who Gabriel was.”

“I am sorry Michael, I truly am, but I have no idea who you are. As to who I am, I am a mutant or alien. I’m not sure which. I can die and come back and I live. I had a very gifted little boy tell me yesterday that I am the Right Hand of God. Who or what are you?” I asked.

“I am your opposite. I, like you, live but I have never died. I have tried and never succeeded. Instead I dole out death. I kill all those deserving of it. I can’t help it. I see the stain on them and I can touch them and within three days they’re dead. I have ended the misery of thousands plagued by disease, famine and abuse. I have brought my wrath on those who’s souls are absent or broken to the point of insanity and pure evil.”

“Alright then. How did I die in 1340 B.C.?” I asked.

“I don’t really know. I had a strange dream as we slept next to each other, woke up, and thought I saw you standing over me and the next second I looked down, and there were lying next to me and you were cold to the touch and your eyes were open.”

“Maybe it was just my time. Did you wait three days?” I asked.

“I waited four, just in case. You never woke up.”

“Why did you kill all those people? Who are to judge?” I asked.

“My power is a bit like yours. I just end suffering or ensure those who deserve it die. I very rarely ever killed anyone who hadn’t already been judged and sentenced to death. The people who couldn’t be saved just ended more quickly. I haven’t killed anyone in centuries or even touched a dying person to speed things along. I am no judge or executioner. It’s no longer up to me who lives or who dies,” Michael explained.

“Good,” I stated. “I’m going to ask you some questions. I always get these so I may as well ask you. What about the Titanic?”

“I was in India and none of them deserved to die,” Michael answered.

“World War II?” I asked.

“California. If I could have I would have only killed those responsible, including Hitler. I did get a hand on Hitler in Buenos Aires about five years later. He’d changed his face but I could see into his soul. He dropped dead in a restaurant after he choked on a shrimp. No one knew he was allergic. I just let circumstances take care of themselves.”

“The World Trade Center?” I continued.

“I was in New York at the time but no where near the World Trade Center. If I’d been on the planes I would have tried to save everybody. If I’d known before hand I would have killed the terrorists. I would go back now if I could and help everyone, but I have no power over time and space.”

“I feel the same way,” I said. “There were so many people I wish I could have saved. I’m going to let you go now. You can have your sword back but if you take one swing at me I’m going to put you down again,” I continued.

I untied the ropes and let Michael stand up by himself. He rubbed his wrists as he stood and took the sword from me. As he did I noticed for the first time that he first man I could look in the eyes without looking down since my days with the Vikings or Africans some 3,000 years before. Sure there were a few basketball and football players that could give me a run for my money but they were all of Viking and African decent and it’s not like I ran in the same circles with them.

“Where did you learn to tie knots like that?” Michael asked of me.

“I’ve sailed quite and bit in my day. You get nowhere or sink fast if you can’t tie a knot on a sailboat,” I joked. “Do you even know how to use that sword?” I asked.

“I’ve been training in the sword arts for 5,000 years, so yes I know how to use this sword,” Michael said sarcastically.

“Really? Because I took you bare handed when you had the element of surprise,” I pointed out. “Do you have any training outside of weapons? Any hand to hand combat skills?” I asked in all seriousness.

“Not really. I’ve never needed it,” Michael answered.

“That’s why I won. I have over 3,000 years of martial arts training. Only a third of my training ever focused on weapons. You seem ever more my opposite as time goes on.”

“You mean besides being male to your female and death to your life?” Michael joked.

“Yes,” I laughed. “Your focus is and was on weapons, mine is and was in unarmed combat. You’re light colored to my dark,” I pointed out. I noticed how blond Michael’s hair was and how green his eyes were because I could actually look into his eyes. “How tall are you?” I asked. “You’ve got to be six foot six or seven,” I commented as I noticed how well built he was too. He wasn’t as wide as a football player or as stringy and lithe as a runner or basketball player. He was just very well proportioned. He looked like a Viking right out of my tribe or the old stories. He could have played a superhero. If he really was over 5,000 years old he could have been my great grandfather and even the basis for quite a few Norse myths.

“I am 6’8” tall,” Michael said matter-of-factly. Most people these days would have said with shoes or barefoot but Michael and I came from an era where shoes were thick pieces of leather tied to your feet by little strips of leather, or you had no shoes at all.

“Get out,” I said, pointing to the kitchen door out the back of the house.

“Why?” Michael asked.

“Because I’ve got to get back to work and you’re in my personal space. Not to mention no one knows what happened and they haven’t seen you today. If you want to go out the front door carrying a sword be my guest. You’ll have three or four Mounties following you before you can blink,” I pointed out.

Michael nodded to me and slipped out the back door with his sword. I locked the door behind him and went back out to the store. I locked my kitchen door and went to unlock the front door. There was a crowd outside. It was only 2:10 so there must have been a short day at school and a tour busload of tourists that just dropped off for the day.

Veronica, Chartreuse and Morticia all came in as soon as I opened the door, confirming the short day at school, and they were followed by a handful of my other regular kids. “Lock the bathroom. No lock the front door and tell them you’re open by appointment only. The tourists are here. The cider festival is officially starting,” Morticia gasped as she leaned against the front door.

“Oh lord, I forgot,” I said. “It seems to start earlier every year.”

“Well, you’re right about this year. It started a whole weekend early,” Veronica said. “The council wanted to cash in on two whole weekends of tourism.”

“And then Oktoberfest starts on the first. Stupid last weekend of September overlapping with the first in October,” Morticia said as she carefully stepped away from the door. “We’re going to have twice as many tourists next weekend.”

“Thank goodness the tourists stop as soon as it snows,” I said.

“Is it wrong for me to wish that it would snow tomorrow?” Veronica stipulated.

“You can wish all you want but it’s going to be 75 and sunny for the rest of the weekend,” I said to the girl.

“Whatever happened to that climate change stuff they always talk about in history and science class?” Cindy asked.

“The climate leveled out about fifty years ago because of global initiative and new industry practices forced on all manufacturers and individuals by the United Nations New Global Constitution in 2050. It forced all governments to give up regulatory rights and environmental law making abilities with the understanding that everyone could voice their opinions, submit environmental bills, and that there would be one system of regulation the world over. The standard was set by Iceland and Denmark,” I stated factually.

“You sound like a teacher,” Cindy said.

“So what?” I said. Cindy let it go and went behind the counter with Morticia. They would both work for me all weekend because of the festival. I loved parts of the festival, but I could live without the tourists and all the junk that would be pedaled by them. Tomorrow I’d let Juliet, Cindy, and Morticia work while I went out and enjoyed apple everything. I was already compiling a list of stuff I wanted to buy. 10 gallons of cider, five gallons of hard cider, five or six apple pies, about 100 bars of apple themed soap, appletini mix that wouldn’t turn my tongue green, plus a whole crate of apple candles. Next weekend when the cider festival and Oktoberfest overlapped I’d get the pumpkin stuff. The apple and pumpkin soap and candles sold all year round like hotcakes and the rest of it kept me happy for the rest of the year.

“Are the booths set up yet?” I asked of everyone in general.

“No,” Veronica answered. “They’re going up tonight. Market Square will be packed and both Market Street and Main will be shut down and turned into pedestrian zones for the next two weekends. It sucks because I just got my car fixed and I can’t get out of town to go to the mall without taking Market or Main streets.”

“Did you ever think of parking your car over on West First Street and walking a few blocks?” I pointed out. “You live on East First Street.”

“But I live at Number One East First Street. I’d have to park in the parking garage at 85 West First Street. It’s like a mile and half away,” Veronica pointed out.

“So? You own a bike don’t you?” I countered.

“Where would I park the bike?” Veronica countered.

“There’s a bike stand at the parking garage,” Cindy pointed out. “I park my bike there all the time when I meet my grandma and go with her to high tea at the White Tea Room.”

“Speaking of relatives,” I said changing the subject, “I saw your cousin Fatima this morning Cindy. I had to ask her to leave. What’s got her panties in a bunch these days?”

“Great Grandma blames her for how sick Grandpa Mont-Batten has been these last couple of years. Great grandma wants to cut Fatima out of the will. Grandpa says not to and great grandma just stews for a while until Fatima does something else because grandpa is her only kid and now the patriarch of the Mont-Batten clan. I don’t know what any of them is all worked up about. It’s not like the Mont-Battens have a lot of money, just a name and few ugly pieces of art and there are a lot of us. Great grandma Mont-Batten’s house is nice and there might be a fight about it unless her will is really clear and good, but I personally don’t want to move to Saskatoon if we inherit it.

“It’s better than having a lot of money and only one of you,” I said as a few tourists walking in. With that the conversation stopped and the selling began. I made $5,000 worth of sales in seven hours and had to kick all the customers out at 9:00. Half of them didn’t want to leave but I had to make them. Veronica and Chartreuse stayed with Cindy, Morticia, and me to clean up afterwards. The candles were devastated, the books were all disorganized, the dust collectors were all scattered about and turned around, and all the tables and chairs were covered in books, papers, and junk. I even found one of the better knives that I thought somebody had shoplifted shoved between the couch cushions of the big sectional and I sat on a pile of candles hidden under three pillows on one of the other chairs.

“If sales weren’t so good I’d really hate festivals,” I said to Morticia as I put the candles away.

“You didn’t grow up with a festival every other month,” Morticia said. “I’ve grown to loathe them.”

“No I didn’t grow up with them but I traveled a lot. At least you’ve lived in one place your whole life. I spent a couple of years traveling with the circus. My life was a festival every weekend during puberty. Thankfully I could hide bad skin and scars behind stage makeup and masks, but I hated it all the same,” I explained.

“I thought you loved the circus,” Morticia said.

“I did and still do. It was the shows and the moving that I hated. The circus folk and sense of family were the best. Plus there’s nothing like learning physics by juggling on a high wire. Since I was home schooled so I could travel with my grandma I got my G.E.D. at 15 and celebrated by riding an elephant and doing my first solo aerial silks act,” I said. “I should really show you all the pictures some time. Not tonight,” I said as Morticia got a hopeful look on her face. “Now all of you get home. Your parents are probably wondering where you all are, at 9:45 at night.”

“Probably not,” Chartreuse said.

“Yeah, they probably think we’re out avoiding the tourists or something,” Veronica said.

“Go. All this can wait until tomorrow,” I insisted. The girls gave in, picked up their stuff and left. I locked front door behind them and gathered up my purse and sweater, and started heading towards the kitchen door when I heard a knock at the front door. “If you’re looking to buy, I’m closed. If you forgot something come get it tomorrow!” I yelled, not even turning to look to see who was at the door.

“What if I just came to visit?” a familiar voice called from the front porch. I turned and saw whom the voice belonged to. She’d aged a lot. She knew my secret but she had one of her own that I kept. I walked to the door and unlocked it for Bianca Giancarlo, also known as Madame Giancarlo, mistress of the dark and mysterious.

She had another name too, Mad Maggie Harlequin. She was different, like me. She was a mutant and had psychic powers that put Professor X to shame. Her day job was working for the Mr. Matahari’s Magnificent Circus that I’d traveled with for more than a decade. She made money by telling fortunes that people thought were phony, but more often than not were spot on. Her other job, that she took more seriously, was smuggling ‘fugitive’ mutants out of the country or at least in to safety. I’d helped her a couple of times by setting up the false papers and using the few contacts that I had. All the underground mutants and contacts called her Mad Maggie Harlequin. She was on several countries most wanted lists under that name. No one knew what she looked like because she always wore a different harlequin mask when she met with anyone but her closest people. I was one of the only people who knew her as both people.

Bianca had only ever tried to read my mind and my future once. When she tried to read my mind she spent two weeks in a padded cell. When she’d tried to read my future her tarot cards spontaneously combusted and her rune stones crumbled into dust. She tried anything again for her own safety. She knew what I was, sort of, but didn’t care. She’d even come to visit me once or twice in the 10 years since I left the circus and never asked for more than a place to sleep and some food. She always knew where I was, even when I didn’t know sometimes, so she popped up unexpectedly and always made me feel better and normal for a little bit.

Bianca came in, I locked the door behind her and I gestured for her to follow me. I went to the kitchen door and let her in to my home behind me. Once I locked the door and set my purse on the kitchen table I flipped the light switch and turned to speak to her.

“What’s up Bianca?” I asked. “You haven’t come around in about 4 years. I know you well enough that you haven’t come to ask for anything but you never show up unless it’s important. Did you see something? Did something happen at Mr. Matahari’s?” I asked, getting right down to business.

“It is important. I did see something connected to you. It’s got to be big because I never see anything about you. It’s like you don’t show up on my psychic radar. You’re a psychic E.M. pulse, which is weird because mutants usually show up better to me, not worse than bugs or technology.”

“I know that. You’re the only other mutant I’ve ever met that technology goes wonky around. What did you see?”

“Something just as big and wonky as you coming into your life; male, strange, and unfortunate,” Bianca answered. “Did something happen in here? I’m getting funky vibes.”

“You’re a little late,” I said to Bianca. “He showed up yesterday. Today he tried to attack me with a sword here today. I got the better of him, asked him why, and got my answers. I let him go about 2:00 this afternoon.”

“Does he have a name?” Bianca asked.

“Michael. Michael Angelus,” I answered.

“This calls for the cards,” Bianca stated.

“Are you sure? The last time you used the cards to read someone strange, me, you had second degree burns on your fingers for a week and a half and Mr. Matahari almost fired you,” I pointed out.

“He didn’t because he knows my gift isn’t tied to the cards. Mr. Matahari’s grandson has taken over since you left now. He likes me too much and I’m on vacation for a couple of weeks.”

“I don’t know if I can put you up for a couple of weeks,” I said.

“Don’t worry. You’re not. I’m going to visit my kids after I’m done with you in a couple of days. I just had to see you first,” Bianca said as she pulled out her tarot deck. It was a replica of her original deck and looked almost as worn as her old deck had, although it had been 15 years since I’d caused the last one I caused to combust. “You haven’t aged a day,” Bianca pointed out.

“I can’t help it. I’m passing for 20 now. No one is going to believe me in a couple of years if I stay here,” I said.

“So, pack up and move on. You can move to another bigger town, go to high school for a couple of years and disappear into the throng. You could even start another store.”

“I can’t do high school again. I’ve done it at least two dozen times in the past two centuries. I can’t do it like those stupid vampires in those teen novels all of those teens like so much. I don’t know why they didn’t get burned and wiped from memory a few decades ago.”

“Because dreck survives while classics fade away. I’m sure someone thought War and Peace and Moby Dick were pieces of dreck yet we still read them,” Bianca answered as she focused on the cards. She laid them out in neat rows, taking up my entire kitchen table. She made a few noises and as she did, hmms and sighs and once she almost swore.

I had no idea what she saw in the cards. I knew their basic meanings and in a simple lay out. I could tell you what each card meant in each position, but what she was doing was far beyond my abilities. I also didn’t have her powers. She could see more with her mind than she could see with her eyes any day, and with cards, a crystal, or runes, she could focus her powers and ‘see’ the future better.

Once she was satisfied with the layout she looked up at me from the table’s only chair. “You should really sit for this,” she suggested. I brought over a folding chair from the stack I kept in the corner, unfolded it and poured us both a glass of water before I sat down.

“What do the cards say and what do you see?” I asked with a sigh. If I hadn’t known about and seen Bianca’s powers at work I wouldn’t have believed in any of what she had to say but I had seen it all.

“Things are about to change dramatically for you, in good and bad ways. You’re going to have to go through the bad to get to the good. You recently had a child say something to you. It was important. Tell me.”

I told her about Lindy and what he’d said about me being the right hand of God. “Ah. That makes sense,” Bianca continued. “You’re the right hand. Michael is the left. Where you did so others live, he lives and doles out death.”

“I got that much when I questioned him earlier, although I didn’t know he was the left hand of God. I don’t know why I’m the right,” I pointed out.

“Did you know that he’s your other half? He loved you once and will again. You will and must love him in return or all is lost. You and he together will change the world,” Bianca said as she pointed to the last card, the world, and turned it from the reversed position to the upright position.

I looked at her and saw her eyes glaze over. She was going into a full-blown psychic vision. I moved her back from the table carefully because she could get violent in visions, knocking things over, floating things around unintentionally. I’d seen her lift a semi and throw it away from her with her mind before.

“The Allfather comes again. The Bifrost will be opened and Midgard and Asgard will be reunited. All nine kingdoms will be opened and Ragnarok will be no more. Only Mani and Sol, dark and light, can bring this about, bring about the end of Ragnarok. It must be done or all will be lost to the tenth kingdom, the void,” Bianca said. She snapped back to herself quickly, having not floated thing about and looked at me. “What happened? What did I say?” she asked of me.

“You had a vision, a big one. Not a floaty one but a big one nonetheless. It wasn’t as scary as some of the rest. You said the Allfather is coming and went on about the Bifrost and Ragnarok. You said something about a tenth kingdom as well. You called it the void. There are only nine kingdoms in the Norse mythology. Most mythologies only had nine. Do you know what you meant by any of it?” I asked. Usually Bianca came back to herself and started remembering her visions if anyone told her. I counted on that, hoping she’d tell me what she meant or what the vision meant exactly. I’d grown up in Norway in the days of the gods and never met one. Ragnarok had never come as far as I knew and I’d never known a bridge between the worlds. There had never even been a bridge across the river that separated the tribes, until I’d been almost 2,000 years old.

“The void has always been the tenth kingdom. It was what was beyond Hel, and Tartarus. It was what all the major gods feared beyond anything. They always thought that’s where they would go if they were forgotten,” Bianca explained as she focused on me. “The Allfather is Odin, god of wisdom and pretty much everything else. You know that the Bifrost is the bridge between the worlds. Ragnarok was the end of the world and the breaking of the treaty between the giants and the gods. Bifrost was broken to keep anyone who survived from crossing between worlds and keep innocents safe. The legends are always vague about what broke the rainbow bridge though.”

“Wasn’t Ragnarok supposed to end the universe?” I asked.

“No, but we mere humans must have seen it like that. Most would if the world shook, the lights went out for a day, disease spread rampantly, and thousands died. It was the war between Jotunheim and Asgard. The giants died out and only a few of the gods were supposed to survive. Ragnarok was supposed to end when Odin and Thor or whoever ripped their way out of the last of giants and come back. I guess Ragnarok being over brings the gods back and restores the Bifrost,” Bianca supposed.

“But we don’t need a bridge between worlds. We have interstellar travel now. We’re even working on teleportation with the Jupiter Mermaids and the Venusians,” I stated.

“Yes, and teleportation wont be a viable form of transportation for another lifetime or two. And interstellar travel takes months and even years. By the time the mission that leaves in January gets to the next solar system you will be another 100 years old. Bifrost was supposed to take a matter of moments, and not require a special suit and a team of specialists and technicians,” Bianca pointed out.

“That is not true,” I argued. “All the gods had armor and special abilities. What if what we interpreted as armor was really special suits?” I asked.

“You’re making it more complicated trying to simplify it, my dear ageless friend,” Bianca said as she gathered up the cards and put them away in her bag. “Now show me upstairs. It’s late and I’d like to wash my face, brush my teeth, brush my hair, and go to sleep.”

I sighed. “I’ve missed you Bianca. Why did I ever leave the circus? It was the safest place I’ve ever had since my grandmother died.”

“You left because it stopped being safe. Mr. Matahari was beginning to suspect because never aged and the Flying Maxinies hated you because you were better than all of them combined. You put them all to shame on the aerial silks to boot. Mr. Matahari may have been half deaf and mostly blind but he wasn’t dumb. He was either going to have to promote you or let you go. He would have even stuck you in the sideshow. If he promoted you the Flying Maxinies would have started gunning for you, literally. If suspicions had gotten any worse you would have been chained up for good in the sideshow. You leaving ended all that and protected the rest of us. If you yearn for the circus you can join up with any other company in the world. Circe du Soliel would love you. Circe de Luna would pay you double just to keep you away from Circe du Soliel and you’d be a little more accepted.”

“I don’t yearn for the circus life. I miss you and Monty and Moira. How are they doing by the way?” I asked. Monty and Moira were married. Monty was a midget clown and Moira trained the elephants. Moira was also over six feet tall and Monty was just shy of three feet tall.

“Moira’s pregnant. She can barely walk and her belly is so big she couldn’t see Monty if he stood right in front of her. I think they’re having twins. It’s hard to tell. All I know is that the baby, or babies, is going to be healthy,” Bianca said as we walked upstairs.

“Do you think I could come visit when the baby is born?” I asked as I showed her to the little guest bedroom.

“No. It’s too dangerous for you, but I’m sure that if you’re going to stay here for a bit I can send Monty and Moira to see you,” Bianca said. “Where’s the bathroom?” she asked as she set her bags on the bed. I showed her the guest bath, which was smaller than mine and nearly as small as the half bath downstairs, which seemed impossible. I’d used it once or twice just because I could and found that I could put my leg up on the sink to shave and still be in the shower. Most would think it’s just because I have long legs that it such a feat but I could put my back against the tile of the shower and turn on the faucet in the sink with my toes and still have my knee bent, which meant that the guest bathroom was only about four feet wide, maybe less and only six feet long.

“This isn’t a bathroom. This is a closet with running water,” Bianca said with a laugh.

“I know,” I laughed too, “but it’s better than the bathrooms in the circus.”

“You mean the latrines and cold showers provided by the elephants?” Bianca said. “I’m glad we’ve been allowed to buy R.V.s and trailers since the old days.”

“Hey, don’t knock the old days. At least in your old days you could go to a hotel for the night if you made enough money,” I pointed out. “I remember taking baths in creeks with no soap and having to dig my own latrines. You’ve also never had to empty out a chamber pot,” I groaned, making an ugly face to match ugly memories.

“You’re right. I’m lucky. Now shoo. I can find my way around,” Bianca said dismissively. I may have been 3,400 years older than her but I still felt that Bianca was much the wiser so I respected her wishes and went back downstairs for some food. I was starving, having not eaten anything in more than eight hours.

I warmed up leftover Chinese food in the toaster over, just leaving it in the metal storage container it came in, dumped the food in a bowl, grabbed a pair of chopsticks and a little plate with a few strawberries on it for dessert and headed back upstairs. Bianca came out just as I sat down in front of the television.

“That smells good. What is it?” she asked as she walked over to me wearing her pajamas and clutching her toiletries kit in her hand.

“Tempura shrimp and broccoli with Szechwan dipping sauce. I think there’s some more in the fridge if you want it. It’s not as good a real Szechwan food though. There are too many fusion flavors today. 500 years ago they didn’t use canola or peanut oil or corn syrup.”

“I’m sure of it since none of those things were invented 500 years ago and even if it had been I’m certain none of it would have been available to the Chinese,” Bianca said.

“Not true. If they had been invented they might have been because the Dutch and the British had opened up trade with China in the 1590’s,” I corrected.

“I keep forgetting you know more history than most so it’s pointless to argue with you about it.”

“Not true again. I just know more general history than most, because I lived it. If you want super detailed history on anything you’d have to as an historian specializing in whatever cultural or historical date you wanted to know about. I can’t tell you much about the Incas of the Aztecs but someone else can,” I pointed out.

“Quit being a pain and tell me what to do for the leftovers,” Bianca insisted.

“Oh, yeah. Downstairs in the fridge are a bunch of takeout boxes and tins. They’re all labeled. If you find something you want take the lid off and pop it in the toaster oven for a few minutes. Anything in a box you can dump on the tray and heat up the same way. Plates, bowls, and cups are in the cabinet over the toaster oven. Silverware is in the drawer bowl. Don’t take all my chocolate covered strawberries,” I called as she went downstairs. I heard her laughter echo up to me and I let it go. Bianca was capable of taking care of herself and if she had any questions she could ask me. I went back to my dinner of leftovers and dipped my last fried shrimp in the dipping sauce and popped it in my mouth. I pushed the little bits of fried tempura crumbs and the last broccoli floret around and left it alone after a bit and started in on my strawberries. They were delicious and I was savoring the last bite of my second one when Bianca came back with a plate and a cup.

She’d found the pitcher of tea I’d forgotten about apparently and filled her cup with it and from the smell wafting off her plate she’d also found some pizza that wasn’t so old that it hadn’t grown legs and tried to walk away.

“You found edible pizza? I can’t remember the last time I had pizza,” I said.

“Yes I did. You ate some last week apparently. It had a date on it,” Bianca explained.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot. Most of the places around here know me and are good about labeling things for me. I guess they were tired of hearing about me getting sick off of old food because I couldn’t remember when I put it in the fridge. I’ll clean the fridge out on Monday,” I said.

“Are you sure? Some of that stuff has probably developed brain waves it’s so old,” Bianca commented.

“Ha-ha,” I said sarcastically. “You know what’s the funny thing? I was just thinking that if I went in the fridge and found that things had started growing legs I wouldn’t be surprised. Sure I’d kill it like a spider but sentient it would be. You and I think quite similarly.”

“Yes we do, although I’m surprised you have leftovers at all. You grew up without refrigeration. I’d think you’d know better.”

“I also grew up without plumbing, electric light or central air, but you see me taking full advantage of those modern conveniences,” I pointed out.

“True. What was it like growing up without toilet paper?” Bianca joked.

“Have you ever gone to the bathroom in the woods with nothing around for miles?” I asked. Bianca nodded. “Imagine that but during an ice age. I spent a lot of time dirty. I think I didn’t change my clothes for a year or tow at a time after my grandmother died. I went that way for a few centuries. Everybody did.”

“Eww,” Bianca said.

“Yeah. Yippy, plague!” I stated enthusiastically. “I was so glad that regular bathing caught on. Toilet paper, indoor plumbing, refrigeration, toothpaste, deodorant, and the incandescent bulb are just some of my favorite modern things. Do you realize that almost all of those things were invented in the past 300 years?”

“Not in-door plumbing,” Bianca pointed out as she ate another bite and I took a bit of my strawberry.

“I said almost everything and indoor plumbing was only re-perfected in the 19th century. Or was it the 18th?” I asked of myself. “Either way one must love the industrial revolution for all that it gave us, besides pollution, Styrofoam, and dependency on petroleum and it’s by products,” I said jokingly as I ate the last bite of my third strawberry.

“True,” Bianca said as she took another bite of food. I would have been finished already but Bianca ate slowly and deliberately, taking much smaller bites than I ever did. She’d always complained about how I wolfed down my food down almost as soon as it hit my plate. But I never bothered to slow down. I usually ate like every meal was my last, because often times it was. “Go to bed,” Bianca said. “I can take your dishes downstairs,” she insisted.

“That’s not fair. You’re a guest in my house. It’s you who should be going to bed early and me who’s taking the dishes downstairs,” I complained.

“It’s fine. I’ll be at this for a while. Maybe I’ll watch a movie while I eat.”

“Come one. The least I can do is stay up and watch a movie with you. I know it’s 10:30 but I slept for ten hours last night. I only sleep for six usually.”

“Go to bed,” Bianca insisted. “I could see as soon as I walked in that you had one of your fits today. Even if you slept a lot last night and took a nap today, you’re exhausted. You’ll fall asleep on the couch before the movie starts if you sit down. I insist.”

“Fine. Don’t worry about washing the dishes. I’ll wash them in the morning,” I said as I walked away and went into my bathroom, shutting the bedroom and bathroom doors behind me. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, took off my clothes, dumped them in the hamper, and walked in to my bedroom in a matter of five minutes.

Bianca was right. I was exhausted. I hated how she could read me sometimes, but I didn’t think about it much more and climbed into bed. I took my vitamins, which I’d forgotten the previous night, with some of the water out of the glass that I always kept on my bedside table and decided to read for a bit. I turned on the lamp on the bedside table and picked up a book from the stack I kept on the floor beside my bed. Most of them were from the library.

I didn’t own a lot of books because they were a pain in the ass to travel with. When I didn’t stay anywhere with a library nearby I used to buy a bunch of books then donate them at the next library or school I came across when I had to get out of town quick. I’d left more books behind than I cared to remember. One place I’d left in a hurry from had had a floor to ceiling ten-foot wide bookshelf full of books I’d bought and read. Hopefully they hadn’t all ended up in the trash.

The only books I kept could all fit in one box that I never let out of my sight whenever I moved. Most of the time I never bothered to unpack the box even though I’d read every book in the box from cover to cover probably forty or fifty times each. Several had been on Michael Angelus’ booklist and at least one of them he would never get his hands on.

I thought about this as I attempted to read the book I’d picked, but I just get into the latest collection of papers on space/time travel. I hated that most of them were only theories. One paper that really interested me, which I hadn’t gotten to yet, was whether travel in a T.A.R.D.I.S. was actually possible. I was betting that the author probably had points and counter points that all came to the conclusion that it was possible but highly improbable with the technology at our disposal.

I put the book down, turned off the light and went to sleep to the sounds of some Disney movie that Bianca probably hadn’t seen in years.



Chapter Three



I woke up to the smells of frying bacon and fresh cinnamon rolls. I found that I was drooling on my pillow. I wiped my arm across my mouth and sat up. I saw the clock read 7:00. I’d forgotten to set the alarm but that was okay because it was still early. I rolled out of bed, nearly fell when my half asleep left leg wouldn’t hold my weight, and limped to my closet as the pins and needles started. I threw on a black silk nightgown that ran to the floor. For most women it wasn’t meant to be walked around in because it would have tripped them but I was tall enough that I could walk comfortably.

I went downstairs after running a comb through my hair and smiled at Bianca, who stood at my little stove, frying up eggs in the leftover bacon grease. “Help yourself,” she said, pointing to three plates filled up with bacon, eggs, and cinnamon rolls with the spatula. I pulled a plate out of the cabinet and filled it then sat at the kitchen table.

“You’re up early,” I stated.

“And you’re not. I told you that you were tired.”

“I was. I also forgot to set my alarm. What’s with the spread? I don’t remember having any of this in my fridge,” I said through a mouthful of cinnamon roll.

“You didn’t. I ran over to the grocery store for the bacon and eggs and the little bakery down the street happened to be open. Those rolls are fresh out of the oven. I just kept them in the toaster over to make the house smell good.”

“Mush on accom pished,” I said around a mouthful of cinnamon roll. Bianca turned off the stove, plated some food for herself, and got a pitcher of orange juice out of the fridge. She poured both of us a glass and left the pitcher on the table.

I took a swig and smiled again. The orange juice was out of a bottle but Bianca had made the effort of presentation. Bianca could have had her own show on the Food Network called ‘Presentation Snob’ or some such. She could make spam and eggs look good and smell good and you’d eat it even if you knew it was spam and eggs and I’d seen her do wonders with chicken nuggets and frozen peas.

We ate our breakfast in silence only broken by an occasional sigh of pleasure from me. I finished off two glasses of orange juice, three cinnamon buns, four eggs, and at least half the bacon in about fifteen minutes while Bianca ate her one plate of food. She went back for seconds while I washed the dishes from last night and this morning. I also took out the trash and came to find Bianca rinsing her dishes.

“I’m going to go get dressed and ready for work. I have to stop by the bank and drop off my deposits. If you want to hang out here or in the store with me you can. The apple festival will be in full swing by 10 am. I’m going to let the girls take over and go look around about then. You can join me,” I offered to Bianca.

“I’ll get dressed and meet you out front in about ten minutes. You can show me around a bit before you open. Maybe I can do a few readings this afternoon and make a few bucks, if you don’t mind,” If Bianca said as we both headed back upstairs.

“I don’t mind at all as long as you split the profits with me. I want 25 percent,” I said.