(Ebook) Precalculus: Concepts Through Functions, A Unit Circle Approach to Trigonometry by Michael Sullivan ISBN 9780134686974, 0134686977
https://ebooknice.com/product/precalculus-concepts-through-functions-a-unitcircle-approach-to-trigonometry-49192666
ebooknice.com
(Ebook) The Circle: Discovery of the Circle by Bruno Munari ISBN 9788875700409, 8875700400
https://ebooknice.com/product/the-circle-discovery-of-the-circle-10556800
ebooknice.com
(Ebook) Identity-Based Brand Management: Fundamentals - Strategy - ImplementationControlling by Christoph Burmann, Nicola-Maria Riley, Tilo Halaszovich, Michael Schade, Kristina Klein, Rico Piehler ISBN 9783658401887, 3658401885
https://ebooknice.com/product/identity-based-brand-management-fundamentalsstrategy-implementation-controlling-49428460
ebooknice.com
(Ebook) Alte Dinge – Neue Werte. Musealisierung und Inwertsetzung von Objekten by Michael Farrenkopf, Filippidou Aikaterini, Torsten Meyer, Stefan Przigoda, Achim Saupe, Tobias Schade (eds.) ISBN 9783835352728, 3835352725
https://ebooknice.com/product/alte-dinge-neue-werte-musealisierung-undinwertsetzung-von-objekten-51991340
ebooknice.com
(Ebook) Linguistic Studies in Phoenician by Robert D. Holmstedt; Aaron Schade ISBN 9781575068558, 1575068559
https://ebooknice.com/product/linguistic-studies-in-phoenician-51824902
ebooknice.com
Song of the Assembly series books are published by Thunderclap Books, Houston Texas in association with Blurb LLC.
© 2016 Michael Schade. Christmas Circle by Michael Schade is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4 0 International License .
This is a work of fiction. All places, events and characters are products of the authors imagination or used fictitiously.
Faking It © is produced and distributed by Viacom Media Networks. Mention of locations and characters in the show is not intended as infringment. All rights to their characters are theirs. The sole purpose is to reveal that the events of their show and the Song of the Assembly novels take place on the same earth.
Chris Tomlin, Jesus Culture and other comtemporary Christians artists are fictionalized accounts of them. No infringment is intended. All rights are their own.
The world is vague; the edges sanded off. Grey clouds shrouded the sky. Flurries swirled relentless as winds howled, shaking the frosted picture window and its thick aquamarine curtains. More shudders slipped those curtains open, the walkway glow illuminating the room in harsh fluorescence.
Beyond the room, street lamps stand tall, capped with gentle orange blobs. Cars trundle down the street, soft black shapes with blazing red tail-lights. Across the street, a little green man hovers in mid-air, occasionally turning red. Everything that isn't luminous is ill-defined, impossible to discern.
She pulled the curtains shut and flung herself into a steamy shower. Streams of water pounded her awake, as they wont every morning since she returned. Imade this my home. No regrets. Resigned sigh tumbled alone as she wiped tears and spray from her eyes.
One hundred strokes of the brush and then peach everything tossed on in swift succession. I can’t live in his room any more than he can in mine. Still he wants me. I want him. We make it work. Another sigh as the radio spoke of a freak snow storm that broke records set in 1932. His room remained so much nicer than hers. New fifty-five-inch smart TV on a mahogany dresser. Unstained bed mattress still soft and white. Fresh carpet that looked of sea matching nothing else the hotel. Only the cracked bathroom mirror remained. Strange bullet holes sat beside it but par for the course here. Time to face the morning; five days ‘til Christmas.
Surrounding herself in puffy yet dingy pink coat and threadbare black stocking hat, she tugged open the door. Snow scrubbed her face rouge. Sprint towards the office on the lower level, catching a glimpse of the Loew’s Grand Palace beyond the cross streets. Its rococo style rested dim and ponderous. An old man shivering in the twilight, dressed in rags. A grimace gripped her as she sprinted to the hotel lobby doors.
The Christmas tree glowed fitfully, twinkling to those who passed the lobby. She looked past its gnarled metal limbs, through its jade plastic needles to the man who stood beside it, decorating. Dingy bulbs rose from yellowing plastic egg crating. Several held logos from surrounding business lost to time now.
Glittery snowflakes, stars and puff balls joined the mix. Finally, numerous flat discs, jade patina rich among them, rose on twisted metallic hocks. Fluffing the tree to even out some of the clumps, it grew more warped and life like than its nine foot brethren.
“Clint? There’s still a box in the store room. ” A gentle poke toward the usual array of pastries, dry cereals and coffee which greeted her this morning. It’s breakfasttime, after all. A newer buttercream dress dotted with blue shells hung from her lean frame, masking the peach, as she stood inside, still shivering from the sudden blustery weather.
“I know. I’m not hanging Starbucks® on the tree unless Lee makes me. ”
He winked at her as she walked by. Luscious chocolate halo flitted about as she laughed, now nursing a steaming mug of java from a chipped red Starbucks® mug announcing ‘stories are gifts: share’.
Glancing out across the square lobby, its seventy inch LED TV repeated the Grammy commercial in jubilant fashion to its lone occupant reclining in a soft cowhide leather chair. “Morning, Princess.” He held up a raised fist, its arm tattooed with various naval insignia including the Navy Seal logo. Haggard breaths tumbled as she shuffled through the counter opening; the door long since fallen away. “I’m ready.”
Clint looked over at her, concerned. Seated in her usual chair, staring at the thin monitor and its black printed manifest san pastries, her expression bore none of the joy of moments ago. “I was joking.”
welcome home anytime I want. I can’t bring her. She remains banished.”
Lee blinked, offering up his handkerchief. “I can’t begin to understand what your world is like or why you returned after struggling so hard to get there. Know that she is always welcome here. We are family.”
Shelly nodded, looking up. Ossie stood next to Lee, who stood next to the tattooed man. “Ossie Davis,” he said extending his hand.
She rose and shook it. “Why are you here, if you don’t mine me asking.”
He grinned again. “Fair enough. However, may I ask my own question?”
She shrugged.
“Who is your daughter?”
Tattooed man pivoted to face Ossie, a rare look of surprise on his grizzled face. Shelly shrugged again. “Aria Darri.”
Ossie frowned, surprised. “Oh.” Pursing his lips, he looked over at tattooed guy then everyone else. “Have you seen a teenage girl that looks like this?” He pulled out a crumpled pic of a waifish child, stringy hay hair and sharp cheeks. World weary hazel eyes stared blankly into the distance.
“Jim, you would know more than most.” Lee commented, shaking his head.
Tattoo guy shakes his head. “Haven’t seen her.” He shakes Ossie’s hand. “I’ll look though.”
“Here’s a business card. Call this if you see her.” Ossie smiles again, walking off to grab a cup of coffee.
“Shelly, what do want me to do?” Lee said sadly. She looked up at him chilly. “Nothing. It’s my anchor to bear.”
Clint waved as Ossie left, causing a quick winter blast to chill Shelly’s icy gaze.
Ossie sprinted out the parking lot and across the snow covered side street that separated the Loews from the west side from the hotel. As he approached the unmarked stage door, he pushed back his parka hood. A man fitting the description he got over the phone stood by, pacing in place.
“Tom?” He said to the square faced, ebony goateed man, tightly stuffed in a new blue parka. “Yes. Ossie Davis, correct?” His deep, manly voice responded as onyx eyes evaluated him. “Indeed. I’m sorry. No one knows her whereabouts. You are positive she would come here?”
Tom sighed, his breath, a steamy cloud before him. “That’s what I was told. These are the only two buildings nearby that someone could sneak in undetected.”
Ossie frowned. “True. Oh, Aria’s mother is over there.”
Tom frowned as well. “Hmm, mind if I hang out here?”
Ossie shook his head, chuckles tumbling out. “Sure. Stay as long as you need.” He unlocked the door and pulled it open with a grunt, the accumulated snow piling behind it. “There’s no heat here. Never thought it’s needed.”
“Snowmageddon will do that.” Tom quipped as they walked through fitfully lit back hallway to the bank of dressing rooms. “You live here?”
“No. Since my wife died, I hadn’t a desire to do anything at the house but sleep. I’ve been cleaning up the place. The owner wants to sell it.”
Tom stopped at a brightly lit set of three rooms looking almost brand new. Clean tan tile, unstained tan walls and polished brass fixtures contrasted with the dusty twilight of the hallway, its former glory long since passed. He shook his head, sadness creeping for the first time since late 2009. “Has it been that long?” He muttered to himself, as he sat down on a wooden stool upholstered in ruby velour.
“Sorry?” Ossie looked curious, relaxing in his worn, black leather office chair. A cluster of screens displaying various locations in and out of the theater shined green and white. Tom shook his head. “No, just memories. So night vision cameras?”
“Yes. Only new thing installed. Powered by the generator on the roof. It’s why I knew she wasn’t here.”
“Yet,” Tom said assuredly. “She won’t go to the hotel.”
He scoffed. “Why not? What would drive her to come here?”
“Money. The fact that…” He bit his tongue. Pursing his lips, he continued. “I believe it involves Aria’s mother Shelly. The girl’s a runaway trying to get home. Neither of them will get her back. In fact, they would prefer her not to return.” Tom demeanor saddened noticeably. “That would only hurt the girl. No one else, not even my wife.”
Ossie nodded. “Then you know Shelly?”
Tom blew out a breath, remembering and shuddering. “Yes, very well. Wicked temper.” He began to say more but the boards covering the front doors began to move. One by one, the slats vanished over the door missing its plate glass. Snow had accumulated before the area, leaving ghostly piles. An unused red velour rope stanchion sprinkled with snow and ancient programs fluttered as the girl slid between two slats.
Standing and stretching, she gazed around the twilight, before readjusting her backpack. Traipsing lightly, she followed the cracked tile walkway to another set of double doors, warped and slightly ajar.
Ossie shifted to another camera, hawkish in focus. Dim lights held the sanctuary in permanent shadow. Frayed, odoriferous seating still waiting for another show lined in near perfect rows. Balcony boxes once holding Hollywood greats rested into sullen silence. Motes danced amongst the handful of remaining beams, casting the red velour walls eerily pitch. The girl slunk down the center aisle, pausing at the second row. Curling up in one of the
“All well and good but it doesn’t answer the question. How did you know?”
“Money.” Tom stared at the exterior shot facing the road separating Loews from the hotel. “Her family is loaded. Shelly’s too. Me, I married in. Scratched off the lucky ticket in 2007 and never looked back.”
Ossie grunted, shrugging. “Expected as much.” His curious twinkle faded as he slouched back into his chair. “So how long do you plan to leave her there?”
Tom waved his left hand. “How much does your owner want for this place?”
Ossie shrugged again. “Couple hundred thousand. Why?”
Tom stared at him, suddenly shrew. “You want Shelly and that SEAL gone. You are afraid when the owner sells, you will be the one gone and so will this place.”
Sadness gripped Ossie as he rose and pulled a program from behind one of the Vaudeville posters. Sealed in yellowing plastic, the flyer announced the opening of the theater in the 1930’s. “I found it when I was cleaning. This place is dead, so of course. ”
“Are you willing to see this place come alive? Restored to what it was then?” Tom grinned, rubbing a thick championship ring. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black limo drive down the street and turn into the hotel.
Ossie looked up curious yet noncommittal. “You need that girl back with her family. Shelly needs her with her daughter.”
Tom nodded. “Now you aren’t answering the question.”
Ossie laughed. “Let me call the owner. ”
Tom nodded again. “First, let me create a show of mine own. Go out and watch. Turn on the remaining lights. I’ll take care of everything else.”
Ossie cocked his head, thoughtful, rose and left. Tom watched the camera as a small brunette stepped out of the limo wearing a
golden band around her forehead. He rubbed his hands together greedily. “Nothing changes. Does it, Aria?”
Shelly lit up like the Christmas tree. Before her stood a smaller, youthful version of herself swathed in furs and natural grey leathers. The woman smiled sweetly as she gazed around the place, hands on hips. “Mom?”
“Aria!” Shelly chirped, bursting through the opening and swooping her up. A beefy no neck man moved to intercept and met Jim head on. Without missing a beat, Jim disarmed the bodyguard and pointed his sidearm at the man ’ s groin.
“Out!” He barked, his other hand waving. The bodyguard, for all his training, stood still, staring at Aria.
She heard the cock of the gun and broke free. “Darren, I’m fine. He will shoot if you don’t leave.”
Darren nodded, and ran out, his phone appearing in his hand as the door closed behind him. Jim sighed, popped the clip from the pistol, walked to a locked box with a slot the top just behind the desk and dropped both in. “Any other motion and…”
“We need none of that.” Lee announced, looking up from the screen. “We have a guest. Congratulations, Aria. Few get nominated for a Grammy.”
Her face blinked sour and then a smile Shelly knew well appeared, the go to fake one. “Thanks. I don’t want to talk about music. I want to talk about this. It looks much nicer since the last time I came. ”
Clint chuckled. “Every bit helped.” He hung another Starbucks® ornament on the now stuffed tree. “Care to add your own, oh mistress of song?”
A soft sigh tumbled as she walked over to the tree. He held out a tiny CD case bearing her image decked in a Christmas hat. “Thanks. You didn’t have too.”
“Yes, we did. You are family,” Lee said earnestly, digging out another box from beneath counter. Garland seeped out from the sides as he carried it. Aria rubbed her head along the edge of the metal circlet, frowning. Suddenly looking out the window, she noticed a black suv turn into the abandoned parking lot of the Loews.
“Mom, whose over in the building next door?”
“Just Ossie the caretaker. Why?”
She tapped her circlet. “Saw a black SUV pull up. ”
Lee chuckled. “That’s his wife. Place been abandoned for decades.”
Aria nodded distractedly, and began hanging garland on the windows.
Ossie walked out to the sanctuary, thoughtful. Images from the singers and plays past scrolled through. The stage, dark and leaf strewn, sighed as he walked by. Walking up the grand stairway, he paused before the open balcony, looking out onto the snow covered tile floor of the lobby. The ticket bays remained boarded up but the main door hung open. Twilight seeped in. Storm ofthe ages, they saidon the radio. How couldone man do anything?How couldhe?
Walking away, he went up the concrete staff stairs to the power room. The door remained ajar and the caged red light waning. Vented to the sky, rested the generator for the security system. Behind it, a massive, tuning fork power switch head down. “Here goes nothing,” exhaled dismally as the hammer clicked back up.
A bright red glow flooded the room. The only sign anything changed. Onto the stairwell and even back out onto the balcony, only darkness, silence and the swirl of fallen snow remained. A quick sprint and he was in the sanctuary, through the forest of seats and up the side stairs to the stage itself. Creaks and groans
shuffled as he leaned down, plugged in a four foot Christmas tree, adorned only in solid red and green lights.
She leapt awake, staring at him briefly. Grabbing her stuff, she stopped as he held a finger to his lips while waving her to sit down. Dropping the bag back onto a seat, she stared at the tree as he slipped into an off-stage side room, containing all the control panels. One by one, he activated them.
First, the upper rafter spots came on, white and clean. Then the star field backdrop unfurled as it rose. Rats, leaves and other detritus sprinkled down, fluttering out or running away. As the lower stage lights came on, he heard music.
Speeding around to the stage, he looked crestfallen as it seemed to be a radio from a man hastily setting up a drum kit. Recording quality microphones were placed by another man as two others rolled in a two tier keyboard. Finally, speakers were set around.
The team vanished around the other side door where people eternally exited the stage, passing by Tom and another group of men. He seemed to converse softly with a much older, shorter man whose head stubble contrasted with his gaunt jaw. He carried an acoustic guitar with him. Two others did the same. A heavy, red bearded man sat at the keyboard while a blond rogue checked out the drums. “Ossie, met Chris Tomlin.” Tom announced spiritedly, looking down at the young girl from the stage. She peered back, hesitant but unafraid. He held a finger up and smiled.
Chris shook hands and then went to the microphone to do a sound check.
“This what you meant?” Ossie said confused. “Yes. Love is the most powerful force in the world. Worship is a powerful form of love. How we express it is through music. The world celebrates the birth of Yeshua in five days. So why not a concert here?” He held a sly smile.
Ossie glanced at the band warming up. “How long?”
“A few songs. They aren’t the only ones coming. I can’t introduce you to all of them. I thought you might want to watch too.” Tom’s gaze jumped to the girls bored expression before moving back to Ossie.
“There’s something you ’ re not telling me. ”
Pensive worry replaced that smile. “There are far more things afoot than any of us need to know. Nevertheless, I need you to believe in a Christmas miracle. Believe that this old, dead theater will come alive again.”
Ossie snorted, his yellowing teeth crookedly smiling. “Others have tried. I’m not the first here.”
“Neither am I. We each have parts to play. I’m the circlemaker. You the caretaker of forgotten dreams.” He shrugged, eyebrows raised.
Ossie nodded. “They play and leave?”
Tom grinned brightly. “They play and as they do others arrive to play as well. When all are done, then they all leave as do I and her too.”
Ossie nodded again. “What’s in it for you?”
“Her. She’s the key.” A sly smile parted his lips. “A permanent place for you too. All I ask is believe and question nothing. Can you do that?”
Ossie pursed his lips, gazing around at the stale, timeworn sanctuary. “Sure. I’ve got nothing to lose.”
Chris paused before the microphone as the band sat down. Tom nodded to Ossie so he went down and sat with the girl. Guitar and piano coursed out, forcing away all disharmony, chaos and confusion. The song ‘ Adore ’ filled the sanctuary with peace. “It’s working.” Tom mouthed silently, watching.
Ossie sat silently as well, seemingly unmoved. The girl watched bright eyed and singing with them. As that song faded, and ‘ He shall reign forevermore ’ rushed to fill in, Tom felt the
change he waited for. A soft breeze touched him momentarily followed by sparkling that enveloped everything, wall to ceiling. Dropping to his knees, he raised his hands and sang with them. It worked. The healing began.
Aria stood outside, clapping her hands together when Shelly stepped out. Walking beside her, she held out a steaming cup of kelp tea. “What’s wrong? You’ve been distracted since you arrived.”
“Tom’s here,” she said in assembly, the language they shared.
“I know. Why does that matter? He won’t hurt you. ” Shelly fired back, gesturing inside.
Aria stared at the ever growing group of tour buses, SUVs and trucks parked at Loews. “I told you he learned how to use Halo against me. He’s doing it. She has to be over there.” As she spoke a scintillating dome formed over the theater. It pulsed and shined like a lighthouse lamp. Aria rubbed her head again, squeezing her hands against it,
“You can’t take it off?” Shelly asked, placing her own hand on the cool metal.
“No. Not while its active.” Her infuriated tone fell as she punched the air. “Look!”
Shelly gazed at the dome. Almost invisible, it held a sea jade color. “The sign of a circlemaker. He’s healing the place. Do you know why?”
“No.” She grimaced. “I don’t.” Turning away, she sighed heavily. “Gwen is being coronated Christmas day.”
Shelly pivoted, suddenly tense. “You know him, and…”
“He keeps hinting at something amazing for me. You know what it was last year?” She scoffed. “Hosting the Oscars.” She shook her head, frustration evident. “I gave it to Neil Patrick Harris because it conflicted with my shoot for ‘Forgotten’.”
Shelly grimaced. “I…”
“Mom, I wanted to shoot on this ranch at night, and the owner would only allow it on a specific day in February. I set it up months in advance.”
She stared at Aria, grim yet hopeful. “Have you given up?”
“No. I still have five days.” She rubbed her forehead again, fingers brushing the assembly script. “‘In the assembly, there is strength for all who stumble, restoration for all who languish, love for all who sing.’ I always believed that love would find me because I sing. Now?” Bitter tears fell as she stared at Lowes now absent of snow. The building seemed vibrant, youthful beneath the dome.
Shelly rubbed her eyes. “Snow’s gone. ” Shock echoed in her voice.
“I can see, Mom. I’ll go over there, just not now. ”
Tom stood off the side as Chris Tomlin finished ‘Silent Night’, watching as a small brunette with wide brown eyes and round cheeks grinned at him. “What are you up to, Thomas?” she whispered.
He shook his head, and hugged her. “It’s been a long time, Lauren.”
“Indeed, tell her congrats on the five Grammys®.”
“OK. I see you got yourself a Dove award as well as a Grammy® nod of your own. ” He grinned.
“Not me. All God.” She grinned. “So…”
“Do you believe if you change one day you can change a life?”
She nodded. “Of course. ” She made a surprised, peculiar face.
“This all is to restore faith, hope and to finish a journey you, yourself met me on. ”
Lauren pursed her lips, thoughtful. “That day at Grace Cheer.” She smiled at the memory. “I could go to school finally.”
He nodded. “Time to go on. ” With a playful shove, he directed her to the stage. Introducing herself, she broke out into ‘ Noel ’ .
Piano, guitar and cymbals surrounded everyone as in warm harmony. The worship continued through to ‘ Christmas Alleluia ’ with its rich instrumentals and finished on a note of peace.
Then Lauren looked over at Tom, who nodded for her to continue. A giddy smile morphed into peace as she sang ‘How Can It Be’ with just a guitar accompaniment. As she sung, he walked down to beside Ossie and sat. Around him, the sanctuary shook off age and decay like a rug shakes off dust. “This is beautiful but we need to address the issues,” Ossie spoke softly.
“Later. I have several still coming. If you need to, you can call the owner anytime. I won’t stop you. ” Tom said as Lauren finished up. He then reached into his pocket and withdrew a music box. Kneeling before the girl, he handed it to her. “Because you ’ ve shown no fear, these dreams are yours to keep.”
She opened it, it gently playing soothing notes. “I need to get home.”
“I know. I’m here to take you. Rest for now and enjoy this prepared for you and Ossie.”
He blinked, confused and surprised. Just then a lanky man with tousled coal hair took the stage. Adjusting his black rimmed glasses as his band assembled, he greeted Tom.
“We are Jesus Culture,” he said into the microphone when everyone was ready and sang ‘Miracles’ . Clouds and thick fog formed above and below as soft piano and guitar played. The rest of the assembled musicians sang along. Yet the young girl reached out as she sang to touch the fog and piece settled into her hands. Glowing and sparkling, it tingled as she squeezed it.
Tom caught her playing with the cloud, smiling as he noticed her glow. Her hardness faded, replaced with joy. Sparkling filled her eyes, color returned to her tawny skin. Even her clothing seemed suddenly new. He started laughing and waved his hand in a specific pattern, simply looking at the ceiling and mouthing ‘thank you ’ .
asphalt. The front seemed glassed up, its ticket box unfazed by time or sun.
Aria jerked off her stocking cap as she shook her head, her loosely coiled top knot teetering high. “This is beyond anything we ’ ve ever done.”
“I’d be interested in seeing what you ’ ve done,” the tall man in a black leather jacket and similar colored jeans said shifting his guitar to his other hand.
Aria shot a snarky gaze his way then realized who he was. Biting her tongue, she plastered on a grin. He smiled genuinely back. “Didn’t expect me, huh?”
“Hello, Matthew. It’s been a while.” She paused before the door, shoving away a nagging feeling that she should go back to the hotel, or anywhere else for that matter.
“Only a year. So what song do you bring?” He held open the door, the wooden slats lying a pile beyond it, golden fresh.
“I’m here to see Tom.” She said as she walked in. Pausing beside a stanchion, her face softened. “Thanks for the assist on the album.”
“You’re welcome.” He held open the second doors, now perfectly even and straight not that he knew. Yet Aria felt it, every step she took. It seemed more of a drive to just leave. Crushing it under the weight of necessity as well as the tantalizing peace that effused from everywhere, she walked through and on down the aisle.
Maroons and tans overwhelmed the eyes while saltiness similar to an ocean breeze tickled her nose. The sanctuary stood beautiful as Matthew ascended the stage. Stopping before the mike like everyone else, he introduced himself and Aria, then paused as Tom, Lauren, Ossie and the girl looked behind to see her.
The girl rose, grasping at her bag. Tom caught her gaze as well as her arm softly. “Stay. You are going home.” She sat down, her
mask of peace broken. Ossie stroked her hand. “All is well.” A smile slowly creeped back.
Lauren rose and walked over. Aria stared at her, anxious, like that morning on October 2009 when everything went so wrong people died. “Lauren, I…”
“ am not angry with you. I want to give you a hug.” She beamed, embracing her. “Know that I’m always available to talk. It’s been a hard road, hasn’t it?”
She looked over at Matthew, his golden guitar out and waiting. He smiled at her, nodding. “No. I’m interrupting you. Go on. ”
Soft electronica floated about them as he began strumming his guitar and singing ‘Grace Wins’ by Matthew West . As the song hit its chorus of ‘There’s a war between guilt and Grace and their fighting for a sacred space. But I’m living proof grace wins every time’, Aria teared up, collapsing into a seat. Head in hands, she sobbed, with Lauren rubbing her back and murmuring affirmations.
Looking up as the song ended, she wiped her face. “Sorry, I ruined everything. All I wanted was my dream. Tom?” She looked over at him, his gaze heartsick. Looking at the vast crowd arrayed, he looked back and her and sighed. It was the same look seven years ago, only this time, there was no escape to salvage her pride. So she bolted up and blackness caught her.
Tom and Matthew managed to arrive at her spot at the same time but Lauren managed to tap her back into the seat. There her slumped form rested. Then a ringtone echoed in the silence. Everyone looked around until Tom pulled out his phone. When he said “Hello, Ossie”, the old man burst from his seat and stormed up.
“Why didn’t you stay who you were in the beginning?” He demanded.
“Because you would have left. Had that happened, none of this would have happened either. Aria would have succeeded.”
“Succeeded in what?” Matthew asked, curious.
“Convincing Ms. Nommo to come join her side. Without her, I wouldn’t be able to get my wife what she wanted for Christmas.”
Bolting up onto the stage, Tom approached the mike. “Thanks everyone. You can go if you want.” As they rose, he felt the heat fade with it. Shivering briefly, he looked over at Ossie. “Go check the heater. It should work now. ”
Ossie shrugged. “True but why? You’re selling.”
Tom shook his head. “Not now I’m not. Besides I need some who actually cares about this place to keep it this way now. It’s time for its new life.”
Ossie grinned, nodding as he walked off.
Tom looked over at Matthew and Lauren. He was rubbing his hands together while she had put her pink puffy coat back on. “I got it from here.”
“No.” He shook his head. “She might be eccentric but she’s a friend. Besides my wife can bring me a jacket if I need one. She’s on the bus outside.”
Lauren shot Tom a curious yet distant look. “Just do want you are planning. No one ’ s going to say anything. So much already happened.”
“I wish you could share Christmas with Gwen.” He said a tingle of sadness catching his words.
She shook her head. “While Christmas in the Great Barrier reef sounds appealing, I’ll pass. It’s time for family.”
“Indeed it is.” He nodded, distant.
The girl walked up holding her bag, grinning. “I remember now. Thanks.”
Tom shook his head as she walked away. “Wait!” She stopped, turning back. “I can’t spend time with her. I simply don’t trust her. There’s too much water under the bridge.”
She chuckled at that briefly before her face went serious.
“Then trust us. ” Lauren and Matthew said at the same time.
“I don’t know you. Either of you. Your music is beautiful, thanks.” She turned back towards the door.
“Then trust me. I protected someone else very precious a long time, kept her secret among the noise. I’m still capable now. Even more so. ”
She pivoted back, her gaze sharpened. “She’s your guilt and you know it. Mine too since that day in September 2010.”
Matthew shook his head, covering his mouth.
“You know?” Tom asked, surprised.
“Know what?” Lauren asked, confused.
“Aria gets her songs from Michael Cote. The man who disguised himself as ‘Justin Beiber’. He got caught on tour in September of 2010. He’s currently in a California State Jail. Don’t know which.”
Matthew nodded his head. “She needed someone. So I help on occasion.” Suddenly, his eyes widened and he stared at the girl. She smiled sharply, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m going.”
“Can we at least do this first?” Tom announced, authority in his voice.
She sighed, shaking her head. “You carry her,” she spat in assembly at him. Frowning, she bit her lip, shook her head and then squatted beside Aria. “I forgive you. ” Walking to the double doors she held them open. “Come on everyone, we haven’t much time.”
Tom looked up at as he heaved up Aria over his shoulder. “Let’s all go over to the Hotel. I’ll explain along the way. ”
Shelly stared out the picture window again as the clock ticked in the background. “What is going on?”
“Nothing bad. She can take care of herself. She always has.” Jim rubbed his chin with one hand while rest his other on her
shoulder. “What do you feel?”
“Peace. She’s there but not. It’s like she’s out cold. Regenerists rarely have that problem.” As she said that, the door opened revealing Tom walking through with Aria. She gazed about, groggy and miserable. “I failed.”
“Quit saying that,” a sharp voice rebuked. In walked a tiny blur that matched the picture Ossie showed. Shelly walked over to her, touching her shoulder then reaching up to brush her hair away from her neck.
“Eldest of House Nommo. 1st degree warrior,” she pivoted, blocking the attempt. “Shelly of House Natal, former Princess.” She mock curtsied.
Shelly frowned, glaring at her until a tall gentleman with a butter toned guitar on his back walked in with a short woman, her russet hair overflowing her pink stocking cap. The tall man approached her, his high and tight hairstyle opposing his causal jeans and puffy Land’s End® blazer. “Matthew, and that’s Lauren. We’re friends of Aria.”
Pursing her lips, Shelly didn’t move. “What’s going on?” They looked at Tom.
“I’m completing the Christmas circle.” In his hand was a message tube that smelt of sea, shined of cobalt. It bore two seals. Over the corked ends, the seal of House Natal, three waves, while on the tube itself was the seal of House Istan, a cross.
He held it out to Aria with a bright smile. “I think you will like this gift much more. ”
She held her hands up, shaking her head softly. “No.”
Matthew and Lauren cast confused looks at her. Jim looked at Tom unsure yet ready to pounce. Miss Nommo snorted then blew out a breath of frustration. Her gaze connected with Shelly before moving to Jim. She flexed her hands, a smirk on her face.
Shelly realized quickly something big remained in that tube, so she snatched it from Tom’s hand as he grasped her rejection.
“No?!” He uttered, as he twisted toward Shelly. Aria stepped up to him and poked him in the chest. “No more emotional blackmail. You know what I want. I know you can’t give that because she won’t let you. She did it to begin with.” Tears fell from her eyes as she crashed into him, embracing him. He petted her hair, confusion reigning on his face. His gaze flitted to Shelly when she restrained a squeal, reading the message. Sea water dripped from her hands as she stared at Tom.
“Can someone explain?” Matthew asked, looking to each person.
“You’re not exiled anymore. ” Shelly announced to Aria while still holding the letter.
Tom beamed. “Merry Christmas.”
Shaking her head, she held out her hand. Shelly handed her the corundum impregnated lotus paper, sparkling in the fluorescent light. Salty sea waifed off as she read the golden words from her grandfather. At the bottom rested his personal seal as King and the seal of House Cetus.
“I’m free! How!” she asked as moved to hug everyone save Miss Nommo.
“I discovered you could only be exiled for the length of a monarch’s rule. It’s been forgotten along with many other rules. So when I confronted King Vann, he agreed. Gwen would have to banish you again. She refuses. Plus, she wants you there at the coronation. All three of you. ”
He connected with Jim and Shelly before returning to Aria. “I needed to meet with Ossie about the new home for LA gate so I figured I would surprise you. You are consistent as well as punctual. Even if your manager doesn’t think so. ” She shook her head, laughing. Then she noticed Matthew remained someone confused still. “Gwen and I were friends when we were kids. It’s a long story.”
He shrugged. “Some other time then. I need to get back.”
Tom nodded. “Thanks again. I owe you one. ”
“I know.” He grinned. “Merry Christmas.”
As he walked out, Lauren looked over at Tom, with a curious look. “I know that look. You really want to go. ”
“And I really can’t.” She frowned.
“Drove or flew.”
“Drove. I came with Chris’s people and figured that I would hitch a ride back tomorrow.”
A mischievous grin held Tom. “I can get you home faster. You wouldn’t miss Christmas.”
“Thomas!” Aria chirped as Miss Nommo’s eyes grew wide. “So that’s it.”
He turned to her. “Yes. You can go now. However,” his grin grew somewhat playful. “Tell me where is the nearest gate.” Jim frowned. Shelly frowned. Aria shook her head as Miss Nommo focused with her hands palms out. Grimacing, she moaned. “Lafayette.”
“Grace, I knew you were coming because I knew you were using it. That’s why Sony insisted I take the gate away. They think you are a master theft they can’t catch, who wants their props for yourself.” He shrugged, an amused twinkle in his eyes even as he kept his face serious.
“Instead, the gate moves to the Lowes. Technically, it will be in the front, covered in its on transparent case while the dial pedestal will be just inside the door.” A devious smile cropped up, shining against the confusion and horror. Expect Jim who grunts a laugh.
Shelly shot him a devastating stare. He stepped away from Grace and pointed to the TV showing a movie trailer. “The gate looks like the ones from Stargate SG-1. It’s smart; hiding it in plain sight. Everyone will paw it, take pictures around it and no one will think twice if it’s used. They will believe it’s a special
effect, especially if Aria walks out of it.” He looked to Tom who nodded.
“Basically my pitch to the King. The gate needed to stay here. The white council wanted it closer to the coast, in San Diego or on Catalina. I knew that wouldn’t work. Too many people found it when it was there. That was the 19th century.”
Lauren rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Sorry but gates, what does that have to do with Gwen and you?”
Tom blew out a breath, covering his mouth briefly with his hand. “Shop talk, sorry. It’s time to get everyone home.”
Aria gripped his hand. “How? It takes days to set up a gate.”
“Not if you know the gate was made to be mobile. This one was. So I had them move it without breaking it down.” He shook his head, then walked to the window. “You know that flatbed rig that was sitting in the back for the last day? That’s it. It only takes three hours for it to come online.”
He opened the door and stepped out as he pulled out his phone. “Call Doug.”
“Doug here.” The man on the other side responded. In the distance, a man walked around the truck holding a phone.
“All things good?” Tom said as he waved. The man waved back.
“Yes. Gate Centralis is operational. However, it is only connected to Tuhinayati, Natal and Sarit,” he responded in Assembly.
“Good. I only needed it to connect to Sarit.” Switching to English, “We’ll be over momentarily.” Hanging up, he remembered the final thing he needed to do. Turning back around, he chuckled. “Let’s go. It’s time.”
Aria approached, stepped out and gasped. Where there was nothing when she walked up, there was now a gate. “You cloaked it?”
“Indeed I did. Oh, I need to make a stop in Austin. I need to cheer up my favorite fan.” Aria hissed at him, playfully punching
