The Missing Link (24 page)

She followed, Soft-Walking at her best speed. Soon they reached the smoldering remains
of a small building. A lone figure in a silken gown, and appearing to have stepped straight out of a
medieval tapestry, was silhouetted by the dying firelight.

"What happened, Jularian?"

The woman spoke without turning from the flames. "I just arrived myself,
Melodious."

"The fire contingent?"

"Strangely absent." Her voice was constricted.

Carole saw her hands ball into fists.

"Were you able to salvage anything?"

The woman shook her head. "A lifetime of work reduced to fire and ash."

"Then perhaps this time I could persuade you--"

She snorted. "Again with that old argument?"

"At least until you rebuild. Think how the students would benefit from your
experience."

She watched a burst of sparks fly skywards. "As I recall, that wasn't exactly the council's
feeling on the matter."

"You should've kept a firmer control on your temper."

She stamped her foot. "My temper had nothing to do with their decision."

Now it was Professor Philamount's turn to snort.

She continued, "They'd have found some other convenient excuse, Melodious. Sooner or
later you too will be forced out and the school will be totally theirs."

Carole wished they'd be less obscure. "The school will be whose?"

The woman turned to stare owlishly at Carole.

"Ah, Carole Sylphwood, may I introduce you to Jularian Talarit, a former instructor at
Hub Central. One of the best."

The woman sniffed. "Keeping your young charge ignorant of current trends, Melodious?
For shame. Perhaps I am needed at the school, if only to bring certain facts to light. There are two
reasons for the decline in transdimensional leapers, my dear. Substandard teaching and--"

"You are speculating, Jularian."

The woman swept her arm out towards the fire. "You call that speculation? For the love
of leaping, Melodious, at the very least the council members are close-minded dullards, and they
are
the reason leapers are leaving."

"Leapers are leaving the Hub? Where are they going?" Carole said.

"Where indeed? The few that we know about have quit the place for more accepting
realms. The others..." She shrugged her shoulders. "...have simply vanished."

Carole was incredulous. "Multitaskers are vanishing?"

"
Leapers
are vanishing. Something our council members seem most reluctant to
even acknowledge."

"And you're trying to sell clothing and artifacts that haven't been in style since the
Golden Age is causing the council to take notice?"

"True style never goes out of fashion, Melodious. And I am much happier scratching out
my meager existence than forever having to point out the obvious."

"I didn't know they wore medieval clothing during the golden age," Carole said.

Jularian gestured at her elaborate gown. "This is an authentic tri, my dear. A Golden Age
classic."

Again Professor Philamount snorted. "Enough about clothing. Please consider returning
to the school, Jularian, at least on a temporary basis."

Jularian sighed, "I suppose I must do something in the interim." She took a final look at
the heap of coals that was all that remained. "I'd best see to my home. Hopefully it too, hasn't been
deemed out of fashion." With a swish of silken tapestry, she strode into the dark.

"Why didn't you tell me about the leapers leaving?" Carole said.

"Jularian has always been one to speak her mind without first validating the facts. As
you've experienced for yourself, Miss Sylphwood, leaping is not without risk. There are myriad
reasons why people go missing, not all of them as sinister as Jularian would have you believe."

* * * *

Back at The Center for Transdimensional Studies, Carole and Professor Philamount
found Meron Seafeather alone in the hall, sweeping up the mess.

"How could I have misread our community's pulse so badly?" he said as they
approached. "Such animosity towards the Devilles." His gaze flicked between Carole and Professor
Philamount. "Towards leapers. I knew Snively would attempt to turn Zack's skirmish to his own
advantage, but this level of..." His voice trembled as it trailed into silence.

Professor Philamount righted a chair. "Tonight's actions go deeper than a simple
schoolyard tussle, Meron. There was a co-ordination and timing involved that extends well beyond
one inflammatory speech. The Devilles were attacked on their way home, and their cottage, as well
as Jularian Talarit's shop were set aflame,
before
the crowds spilled into the streets."

Professor Seafeather's eyes expanded to saucer size. "They are all right?"

"Perfectly."

"And the rest of the Hub?"

"We are currently surveying for further damage. Otherwise we would stay to assist your
clean up."

"No, no, I'm fine." He waved them off. "See to the community."

Continuing on their way, Carole and the professor backtracked along the Middleroad
towards the now deserted commercial district. Three buildings, Realm Favorites Restaurant, Realm
Fabrics and The Exotic Realm Bakery, had their windows smashed out. No other structures
appeared to have been damaged, though some statues had been toppled over.

"I would have expected more," Carole said.

"Excuse me?"

"A lot more damage and fires. When people riot, they usually go crazy."

"The damage has indeed been most selective. I have seen enough."

He escorted Carole as far as the school before bidding her good night. He turned
towards the building.

"You're going inside?" she said.

"If the pattern of tonight's activities are not immediately revealed, the perpetrators will
be emboldened to further action under the guise of random violence. There will be an emergency
council session tomorrow, and I must be prepared to give a formal report on the matter."

"What's to prepare? It's obvious Hotspot planned the whole thing."

"Any number of people could have learned the gist of Professor Hotspot's speech and
manipulated his rhetoric to suit their own needs. The situation is anything but
straightforward."

Instead of returning to the Devilles' cottage, Carole Fast-Walked her way to where Runt
was still guarding the Monobrain connector. She sat on the grass next to him. "I don't suppose
you've any idea who those two guys were that you saw earlier?"

"Ret." Runt shook his head.

"It's all so confusing. I wish I could talk to Hal."

"Rit, reet."

"Now? I suppose I could... Yeah, why not."

Carole made the leap with ease, but instead of standing inside Hal's cottage, she found
herself in a tiny, walled garden. Confused, she looked around and caught her breath. Towards the
back of the garden were half-a-dozen gravestones. The ground in front of the nearest stone was
fresh, the earth thick with newly planted flowers.

She stepped forward to read the stone. A terrible chill, stabbed her heart.

Hal Wood (Roberts)
The warmth of your smile, the comfort of your
hug.
A friendship treasured, a friend sorely missed.
Rest in peace dear soul.

"No!" Carole fell to her knees. "No, no, no..."

She didn't know how long she stared sightlessly at the stone, but eventually a painful
cramping in her calves forced her back to the present. She rose stiffly. Maybe it was a different Hal.
Maybe she'd landed somewhere else by mistake.

She left the cemetery through a wrought iron gate. Hal's cottage was on the far side of a
knoll, only a few hundred yards away. She moved reluctantly towards it. A dog barked in the
distance.

The cottage was locked. Carole peered through a window. It looked empty, lifeless. She
knocked quietly. "Hal?" There was no sound from within.

She knocked louder. "Hal?"

Silence.

She pounded on the door and screamed his name over and over and over, until her fists
ached and her voice cracked. Finally, exhausted, she sank to the step and buried her face in her
knees. Sobs shook her frame.

Eventually, when she had no tears left to cry, she looked up to see an elderly woman
standing a short distance away, watching discreetly.

Carole wiped her hands against her face. "I didn't know you were there. I--"

"You're Carole," she said, matter-of-factly, and held out a handkerchief. "Here. This will
do a better job than your sleeve. I'm Margaret Wilson."

"Hal's friend?" Carole stood shakily and accepted the cloth. "Is he? Is Hal really--"

The woman wiped a tear from her own eye. "Yes. You were at his grave."

"When did..."

"Shortly after the storm. After your visit. I think he was hanging on just for you, Carole.
He was late for our morning garden tour and I found him still in bed, looking very peaceful. Like he
hadn't a care in the world." She sighed deeply.

"Do you think... Would it be all right to..."

"Of course, dear." Margaret Wilson produced a key. "Everything is as it was. I've been
waiting for your return." She stepped inside and Carole followed. "Of course there's not much. You
know Hal. Things didn't matter to him."

Carole smiled. "Only people and hot chocolate." She walked around the tiny place.
Despite the morning sun shining through the windows, it felt cold and damp, like a tomb. There was
nothing here for her.

"Will you come and visit? I've so wanted to meet you."

Carole followed Mrs. Wilson to the manor house. At another time she would have been
thoroughly impressed by the size of the place, but today she barely noticed anything, except for a
gangly black puppy that nearly bowled her over, as soon as Mrs. Wilson opened the front door.

"Mindy. Leave the poor girl alone."

"That's all right." Carole rubbed the wriggling pup's head. "She's a beauty."

"Mindy was Hal's idea. He didn't like the thought of me being alone in a big empty house,
so now I've been saddled with this bundle of energy."

A maid walked by.

"I know," Margaret said, seeing Carole's expression. "According to Hal, hired help are
not the same as real friends."

Mrs. Wilson led Carole, with Mindy in tow, to the parlor, where she rang a silver bell that
was sitting on an end table. A different maid from the one Carole had just seen came through a set
of French doors. She curtsied, "Ma'am?"

"This is the young woman of whom I spoke, earlier."

"Right away ma'am." The maid hurried off.

Mrs. Wilson seated herself on a love seat with ornately carved mahogany legs and trim,
and motioned for Carole to do the same. The pup settled at their feet. They sat in silence until the
maid returned with a tray. On it was two steaming cups of hot chocolate, a photograph of Hal and
Carole in a simple silver frame, a letter addressed to Carole in Hal's handwriting, and a giant
strawberry.

Carole landed amidst a clutter of boxes. The school tower? What was she doing here?
She had meant to land at the Devilles'. Sighing heavily, she placed her hand in her pocket and felt for
Hal's letter. It was still there, unopened.

She was about to leap back to the Devilles' when she realized that Professor Philamount
was probably still in his office. Without really thinking about it, she headed towards the stairs. She
was nearing the first floor when she heard a man call out in a harsh tone, "Philamount. We know
you're here. We want to talk. Philamount!" There was a muffled crash, followed by a loud bang and
a cry.

"Professor?" Carole stepped into the hallway. "Professor Philamount, are you okay?" She
sprinted for his office. The room was dark, the door ajar.

"Professor?" Carole pushed on the door. A window had been smashed out. She flicked
on the light and stepped inside. Glass and paper was strewn across the floor, and lying in the middle
of the mess was Professor Philamount, a pool of blood spreading out from his head.

"Professor." Carole shook his shoulder. His eyes remained closed. "Professor
Philamount?" She grabbed his wrist and felt for a pulse. There wasn't one. She placed her head
against his chest. There was no heartbeat.

Professor Melodious Philamount was dead.

"Not you too," she cried, aware of a sick emptiness spreading throughout her belly.

Why hadn't she leaped? She could have easily been in time to help. She could have got
here before it happened. Why did she take the stairs? Why didn't she get to him first?

Carole stared as the thick red liquid began to stain his thin white hair. Her stomach
roiled. She had to get away.

She had to escape this madness.

She leapt, thinking only that she had failed Professor Philamount. She should've been in
time to save him. She should've been here to help. She landed badly, falling to all fours with her
head pounding and her belly lurching. She struggled to keep from vomiting.

"Miss Sylphwood?"

"Professor Philamount? But you're dead!"

Why was she still in his office? Why was he sitting alive at his desk? Where was all the
blood? The paper? The glass? She looked at the window. It wasn't even broken.

The professor came towards her. "Are you all right?"

"I was too late. I heard shouting and when I got here you were dead."

"What are you talking--"

"Philamount!" It was that same harsh voice she'd heard while in the stairwell.

"Quick!" Carole jumped up, locked the door and switched off the light. "We've got to get
out of here."

Someone tried the doorknob. "We know you're in there. We want to talk."

Carole pushed the professor aside, picked up his chair and threw it at the window. The
glass exploded, scattering shards everywhere.

"Philamount!" The doorknob rattled again.

Carole grabbed the professor's arm and tried to pull him towards the window.

He resisted. "What are you doing?"

"Shhh. They want to kill you. We have to--"

Carole yanked the professor under the desk just as the door flew open with a bang.