The Seventh Direction

PART THREE: Stalking Violet. Episode 87

                                                          ["D/A" narrates —A.A.]

I opened my hands, and looked down at the stones. One had an image grown on its surface. Busy with the image, I startled as Aces rushed through the door, Lady El right behind her. Lady El winked at me, put a finger (ssshhhhh!) to her lips, then dissolved into Aces. (Vaporous.)

"It's c-c-cold in here," Aces said, her arms wrapped round herself, teeth chattering. Her eyes were very bright. Aces—she zombied her way over to the night table, opened the drawer, pulled out the picture of Wyllen, looked at it, still shivering, then looked at me . . . at it . . . at me . . . and said: "I've seen him."

Me too, I thought, too caught up in what was going on with Aces and Lady El to ask the obvious question. "There's a robe on the hook in the bathroom," I said. "But be careful in there."

"I know," she replied, but whether she was referring to my "me-too-thought," or to the robe, or to "be careful in there," your guess is as good as mine. She put the picture on the bed, and smiled. Lady El was all over Aces. Her face especially. I couldn't tell who was who! What was El up to? Aces went into the bathroom. I don't know, was Lady El preparing Aces too? Expanding Aces' capacity? Imprinting Aces? Was she Aces? No, that couldn't be, could it? Did Aces even know Lady El? And if she did, well, maybe she had no conscious memory of El? They hadn't met yet, I think so. Where are they!? Maybe gone for a "little excursion" through the portal?

"Hey, Dorothy." Trudy's head poked round the door. "Seen Aces?"

"She should be back . . . shortly."

"There was a phone call for her. Give her the message?"

"Sure," I said.

"Thanks. I didn't know she was starting a new job," Tree frowned. "Well, good for her. They want her tomorrow night, if she can. She should let them know. Soon.

"I'll tell her."

"See you later." Maybe . . . I thought.

Still no Aces. Still no El. Enough of this. Time to find out for myself. I threw off the covers and marched into the bathroom, peeked . . . and there she was. Aces was sitting on the can, her eyes closed. Then it twigged. "Did you say you'd seen Wyllen" I whispered, "and that you knew I knew him? Or was I daydreaming? Are you daydreaming?" I shouldn't wake her.

"Who?" she blipped, her eyes popped open. El, I think so, was gone.

"The young man in the picture?" I said. "And where were you just now?"

"I don't know. Give me a second, will you. My turn to shake off the cobwebs." She didn't shake a thing. She'd stopped shivering, too.

"Okay. So . . . when I met him, I just felt the connection, like the two of you were together somewhere near me. Of course—really it was inside me what I felt, but I passed it off, Dorothy, thinking it was coincidental because you're almost always in my thoughts. Yeah, I just figured I was connecting the poor kid somehow to the new feelings and the peculiar things that've been  coming my way since I met you. But when I looked at the picture just now, a moment ago, then at you, and then at him again, the same feeling came over me. Yep, it's him is what I thought. Now, though, the feeling's kinda gone and I—I'm kinda doubting they're the same young man. I mean, Geez Louise, what are the odds?"

"Come on," I grabbed her hand. I felt very nervous. I didn't know exactly what was going on, but Aces had a story; and something told me it had a lot to do with everything I had been experiencing lately. "Set your pretty butt down, right here, love." I sat her in her chair. "Talk to me." She knew exactly what I meant, and what was needed. (I was too rattled to ask her the next obvious question.) She started her story.