Wickerman Cove

Part 31: The Lockbox

Penny held onto Renard's collar as space warped and shifted around them.

Symbiosis with a Crinoform, or some other dimensionally active symbiotic life form, was almost the only way she could interact with reality without melting the flesh of everyone around her in this reality. It was one of the only reasons her people had survived the Incursion. Other universes had magical systems, but none were as powerful, or destructive, as her own. The Envious had soon found that their matter wasn't any more resistant than that of the hundred realities the Silent Ones routinely visited.

"Don't come out too close," she whispered as the world flowed around. "We don't want to hurt anyone."

Space moved again, and the forest changed. They were still in the woods, but now it was somewhere different. Renard had brought them down without killing any of the plants or animals. The rain came down hard, which was more of a problem as he also wove their disguises around her. It also occurred to her that she wasn't completely certain where her car was parked anymore.

They'd arrived at an almost fairytale clearing – the ground was uneven, with trees projecting out at every angle. A Jetstream style caravan sat in the middle of the clearing, with a fairly nondescript car parked nearby.

Maksym was around somewhere. He seemed to be very good, so he would probably have slipped away from the caravan to circle around where she'd appeared. It would have been easier if she could have spoken without reducing his body to a sack of open wounds and tumours.

She tried to think of ways that she could keep her hands where he could see them and prove that she wasn't a threat. She considered signing, but there was no indication he understood. Putting her hands up was a possibility, but there were far too many spellcasting gestures it could have been mistaken for.

Abruptly, the answer came to her.

She started dancing.

It was a fairly sedate waltz. She led, and kept her hands on an imaginary partner, which meant they were where Maksym could see them. Besides, the waltz was a fairly peaceful dance. It didn't have the passion or kicks of other forms of dance. Not that there was much she could have done in a torn hoop skirt.

After a moment, a voice came from the trees. "I must assume this is a distraction, but I can find no sign of your friend," Maksym said.

Penny stopped. She didn't have very good directional hearing, and it was likely that Maksym would move around to conceal his position anyway.

Do you understand British Sign? she asked, in sign.

From a different spot – about seven o'clock there was an answer. "This is another reason I had hoped that the Marine would have come. I do not understand what that meant."

Moving slowly, Penny got her phone out and opened her speech app. "I come. In PEACE," it said, mangling the flow of the sentence despite all attempts to moderate it with punctuation.

"I'm listening," he said, not emerging from the treeline.

The back of Penny's neck had started to itch. It was impossible not to imagine that he had a gun trained on her.

"My-friend is in trouble. I think. We need your help," Penny said, the app only mangling her words a little.

"Keep your hands where I can see then," Maksym said, "and I don't mean 'start dancing again.' Just put them up and let me look at you."

Branches rustled as he emerged from the bushes. It was almost certainly deliberate – there was no way he hadn't moved from one side of the clearing to the other as he'd been speaking. Renard turned to watch him as his footsteps approached.