Tiffany Dunn - If I Should Never Find You

Wendell managed to keep his 'royal face,' while groaning inwardly. "Yes of course. Why don't you..." he paused, scrambling to remember why the men were there. "Uh, why don't you...ah yes! You can put in a fenced pen and that will keep your pig from eating his roots."

Both men gazed up at Wendell, clearly awe-struck.

"A bloody genius," he heard someone in the crowd murmur.

"Next case!" the servant standing next to his throne bellowed across the room.

Two more men approached, one with a chicken stuffed under his arm, the other struggling to hold onto a furious rooster. The one with the chicken began shouting something at him, while the rooster started crowing for some inexplicable reason. Wendell felt the noise crashing into him, building into an internal pressure that felt like it would explode out of his head.

"No!"

The crowd stilled, watching him. Suck an elf! He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"I mean, I must...I must get something to drink first."

A servant knelt in front of him, already bearing a glass of cold water.

Wendell stood anyway. "I need to use the royal bathroom," he announced stiffly. They can't stop me from that he thought. Although he did have a brief image of them trying.

Escaping into the hallway, he looked behind, unsurprised to see his new manservant, Geoffrey, there. After Giles' death, they had had to pick a new man. Wendell had hoped it would be someone nearer his own age, not the tottering old man that stood before him. To make it worse, he had none of Giles' backbone.

"What is it, Geoff?"

The man bowed low, some unnamable bone popping as he did so. "I am your manservant. I-"

"Yes, yes! I know that already." Wendell rolled his eyes, but Geoff didn't bother to notice. "I'm just going to relieve myself. Can I not do that alone anymore?"

Geoff opened and shut his mouth like a dying fish. "I just thought, sire, that-"

Wendell held up a hand, and then patted Geoff on the head with it. "Just go back in and keep my throne warm for me, hm?" He turned and hurried off, knowing that even if Geoff decided to follow he could easily outrun him.

It was all just too much. So far this morning, he had had breakfast with an elvish dignitary - although there was little actual dignity involved on the elf's part, he had solved some fifty cases of amazingly dull disputes, and he had another fifty lined up. Then later there was dinner with an entourage of dwarves, followed by troll culture studies. He didn't know when they had slipped that into his schedule, but his advisors thought it would be important.

Wendell slowed as he wandered down the halls of his castle, not seeing the servants who bowed and fawned over him as he walked by. It surprised even him when he approached the hallway that led to where they were hiding the Traveling Mirror.

The hall was made of thick, solid stones and was long, with no windows. Down its entire length there were only two torches, and one had burned out. The faintest hint of something musky lingered in the air, but down here it could have been anything. Wendell stopped underneath the unlit torch, widening his eyes in the darkness.

It wouldn't be that hard, really, to get to the Mirror. He was one of only three people in the entire kingdom that knew where the keys to this door were, and the other two were in the throne room right now. Which, upon reflection, probably wasn't the smartest idea, but he let that thought slide. I could make a quick jaunt to the Tenth Kingdom, he thought. I've only been there once, and since I was a dog that doesn't really count. I could check up on Virginia and Wolf. And its really rather unexplored, someone should go give it a thorough survey. Even as he considered it, Wendell grew warmer to the idea.

Spinning on one heel, he marched back down to the servant's quarters and straight into one of the rooms without bothering to knock. Even if someone had been in here, he wouldn't have felt too guilty about it. It was his castle, after all.

The room was tiny, with one small bed, a wash bowl, a tiny mirror, and a trunk crowding what little space there was. He rooted through the trunk, pleased to see that whoever this was, the clothes they wore seemed just a little bit bigger than his own. Grinning, Wendell changed, leaving his own clothes laid out neatly on the man's bed. Wouldn't he be surprised when he returned later this evening? He had to laugh aloud at that, imagining the poor man's face. "I must make sure he doesn't get in trouble, though," he told the empty room. After another quick search, Wendell located pen and paper in a storeroom down the hall, and wrote a quick note saying he had 'gone out' for a bit and would be home by tomorrow. And not to blame this poor man for doing anything to the king. Studying the hasty letter, he nodded, signed it, sealed it, and lay it carefully on top of the clothes.

He paused a moment to gape at himself in the man's small, dirty mirror. The shirt he wore was bigger than he had thought, and hung on him like a giant's sheets on a normal-sized bed. The pants had a hole -- an actual hole! -- in one of the knees, and the entire ensemble was a dull, perpetually dirty gray. "Fantastic," he murmured. Even as a dog he had never felt this common. It was refreshing.

Inordinately pleased with his secret mission, Wendell was more cautious as he made his way to where the keys were kept. He disarmed the six traps and snatched up the keys, forcing himself to calmly walk back to the door. Finally! He would get his break. And, to top it off, it would be clandestine. His blood tingled with the excitement of it all. It was so rare he even got to sleep by himself anymore, let alone go off and do something.

Arriving at the heavy door, the king stared at it before unlocking the locks -- middle, bottom, top -- amused to see his hand was trembling. "Come now, Wendell," he said softly, eyeing the door, "don't be afraid." It was made of solid ironwood, and had been constructed by two of the finest ironwoodsmiths in the Fourth Kingdom. "You've faced down some of the most evil creatures in all the nine--the ten kingdoms. This is just fun." Even though the nervousness was masking that fun pretty well at the moment.

Wendell still couldn't bring himself to open the door. Truthfully, he had no real idea what the Tenth Kingdom was like. What if it was dangerous or just dreadfully boring? Maybe he would be better off spending his mini-vacation somewhere he knew. Like Cinderella's kingdom. At least that way, if something unexpected happened, he had somewhere he could go. Besides, who would want to spend a vacation with Wolf and Virginia anyway? Not any sane person, and certainly not one who was single. The two spent more time making lovey-eyes at each other than breathing. It was enough to make a man sick. If not the tiniest bit jealous.

"Well," he sighed, locking the door again. "Perhaps I'll visit when Antony goes back. Then at least I'll have a guide. And a distraction." Mollified with the back-up plan, Wendell retraced his steps, replacing the keys and resetting the traps. He kept the servant's clothes on, having decided that once he got outside he would rub some dirt on himself and truly get into the spirit of it. Part of him worried that he was relapsing into dog hood, which occasionally caught him at stressful times, but mostly he worried about how to get out.

There's always the obvious he thought, heading back to the servant's room. He rooted through the clothes and came up with a thick, hooded, winter cloak. "Perfect." Wendell was smiling as he wrapped the smelly thing around himself. He was certain it hadn't been washed since it had been bought. That was even better!

"Who would suspect the king would dare to show himself in this?" he asked the mirror, wiping off some of the dirt with his thumb. He wiped his thumb across his cheek, delighted to see the hint of a smudge form in its wake. "Oh this will indeed be enjoyable."

Wendell had always considered himself an outdoorsman. He loved hunting, and the occasional overnight trip in the woods was not unheard of. But it hadn't been until recently that he had found the real benefit to being outdoors. Solitude. Blessed, underrated solitude. It was just man against nature, and the odd troll in past times. With the recent death of the Evil Queen and the Troll King, Wendell knew it would be safe in the Fourth Kingdom for at least a few years. And everyone knew that Happy Ever After never lasted as long as you hoped.

What was that phrase Antony had taught him before he left? Carpe diem. 'Seize the day.' Well he was seizing it now! Nestling deeper into the cloak, Wendell headed straight for the castle entrance, walking like he had a purpose. He hoped that if he looked like he had a mission, no one would stop him. None of the servants took note of him, not even bothering to get out of his way. He almost yelled at them to move for their king before he realized that they didn't recognize him, which was exactly what he had wanted. Then he had had to keep himself from decloaking victoriously.

Even the castle guards only gave him a cursory glance. More concern was given to those who were trying to enter the castle, and not those who were leaving. There was a long line waiting on the drawbridge, and the noise was astounding. Everyone seemed to be screaming at the top of their lungs, all at the same time. Didn't they realize that they were getting nothing accomplished that way?

Wendell chanced a look at the guards, and saw the dull resignation in their eyes. He would have to remember to remedy this when he came back. A mob outside the castle presented a painfully unruly picture of his kingdom.

And then he was free.

There wasn't a sign saying, "Freedom starts here," but he felt as if there was. He glanced over his shoulder, and could hardly make out the forms of his guards amongst the crowd milling around outside. No one was paying attention to a servant on a mission.

Wendell lifted his face up to the sky, the sunlight racing past the folds of the hood that he kept clutched around his head. He shut his eyes, letting the rays warm his eyelids and his cheeks, until he felt like he had been crying. Lowering his head, making sure his hood stayed in place, he chose a random direction and began walking. He had no food or water or clothing, but he wasn't worried. He didn't need any of that right now.

He had his freedom.

Melissa felt like a weight was tied to her feet as she trudged to the waiting limo.

It had been an excruciatingly long day -- and it was only late afternoon. But they had done all of the last filming of her scenes, rushing them all to get everything completed on time. She also suspected the director sensed the growing apathy she was feeling towards her role and didn't want to chance his star walking out before everything was done.

She slid onto the soft leather seat and leaned her head back against the headrest while the driver shut the door. Teresa had insisted on coming over later to make her special spaghetti sauce, but even the distant memory of spices and tomatoes couldn't get Melissa hungry. She hadn't eaten all day and wasn't planning on starting now. Her evening held a few glasses of wine and maybe a few shots of tequila in its future. The limo purred to life, the engine quiet and smooth as the driver pulled sedately out onto the empty street. Melissa turned her head a little, watching the scenery through the tinted windows. This movie was based in Los Angeles, which was a small blessing in and of itself, because it meant she could go home during filming and not have to stay in some ritzy hotel. Of course it also meant that they actually had to film in LA. And the dirty streets and sad houses that they passed just depressed her.

What depressed her more was that the people who lived in these houses were being paid to keep a city block away from the shoot. They were nearing that barricade now, made up of bright yellow, heavy plastic barriers. People were pressing at the edges, held off by the always-loveable LAPD. She could see the change in the bored, sullen crowd as they spotted her limousine pulling closer. People began to stand and wave their arms, and the group became a living thing, melting into itself until it became one being instead of many.

She saw her driver, Jerry, glance at her in the rearview mirror and ignored it. He hated driving through the crowds, but Melissa always made him do it. She never admitted to herself why, because she did nothing but complain about the noise, but Teresa held a few choice theories. The sudden pounding on windows drove the rest of that out of her mind, replacing it with a headache. She saw the brief flash of faces, the dark metal of cameras, the shiny sunglasses of a cop. What did these people see in her?

And wouldn't they be horrified to know how she saw herself.

"Would you like any music, Ms. Duke?"

Good old Jerry, she thought, rubbing the bridge of her nose tiredly. He always asked her, even though she could do it all herself. It drove her insane, but she knew he meant well by it.

"No, Jerry. Not today." It was the same answer she always gave. When had the exciting, whirlwind life she'd dreamed of fallen into this dull routine?

Weren't actresses' lives the ones other women fantasized about?

"Actually Jerry. Yes. Something soothing. No, better yet, something loud."

He glanced at her in the rearview mirror again, his brow furrowed in surprise. "Really?" That one word was so filled with shock that it stopped her from answering immediately.

Melissa inhaled slowly, the oiled leather smell working its way into her head, wrapping itself around her headache. "No," she sighed, leaning her head back against the headrest again. "Never mind."

He continued on, peace filling his eyes as the world settled back into place. All she could hear in the limo was the harsh sound of her own breathing.

Grojavek wished that She had been able to get him back as easily as She'd gotten him there. He had appeared immediately at Her call, and then, after She had told him what he was supposed to do, She'd sprinkled something over him and he had been at the Stupid King's castle.

Now he had to walk all the way back, because She hadn't thought to give him any magic traveling dust. That just proved how much smarter he was than all of them. The mirror was growing heavier as he walked, his imp legs moving as fast as they could.

He didn't know where he was, exactly. He just knew that if he kept walking this way, he would get home. Sniffing the air, his tiny nose could no longer pick up all the exciting scents it used to. Tiny noses weren't just ugly, they were useless! Groj dug a long, skinny finger into his ear, pulling out a sticky ball of wax. They were all stupid. Stupid and ugly. He licked the wax ball off of his finger and began chewing on it.

He walked for a long time, muttering and giggling and chasing after the odd rodent. He wondered what the surprise would be, and spent several minutes tumbling around in deer droppings in his happiness. He loved surprises!

As he kept walking, the mirror grew heavier and heavier, and bulkier. Groj looked at his pocket, and noticed the top of the mirror poking out. "Stupid mirror!" he squeaked, pushing down on it as hard as he could, until he tipped himself over. When he rolled back to his feet, the mirror was still sticking out of his pocket. The hint of a thought waved a tiny flag in the imp's mind, and was then lost amidst the shouting and shuffling of his nervous excitement.

He pulled the mirror out and lay it on the ground. Sniffing it carefully, unable to smell anything with his new, tiny nose, he walked around it several times. Then, when that didn't seem to do anything, he cartwheeled around it. It looked the same. He poked it with his finger. It felt the same. Groj dug for another wax treat while he attempted to think.

It had fit in his pocket before, he knew that for sure. And it had gotten heavier the later it got. Maybe....the imp squinted his eyes until they were tiny slits, his whole face wrinkling with the effort. A bird perched in a nearby tree chirped softly, but still didn't manage to disrupt him, his concentration was so great.

If it fit before and it didn't fit now that meant ... that meant ... Groj opened his eyes and screamed with excitement. He'd figured it out! His pockets were shrinking!

The bird flapped off, terrified at the noise. He bounced around, his big feet making deep prints in the soil. Wait! Groj stopped mid-bounce, and then landed on his face. If his pockets were shrinking then how was he going to carry the mirror? She had warned him that if he lost it, he definitely would not be getting his surprise. His big, buggy eyes filled up with tears.

He would carry it back. He had hoped to avoid doing too much work, in case Her surprise wasn't any good, but even a bad surprise was better than no surprise at all! Picking up the mirror, surprised at how heavy it was, he began tottering along, weaving back and forth as he went.

Grojavek hadn't walked that far when his arms gave out and he dropped the mirror to the ground with a squeal. It bounced on the soft grass and didn't break, and he flopped onto his back in relief. He thought he had broken it! Now he would have to be really, really careful. But it was so heavy! And it only got heavier as he walked.

Wait. Grojavek bolted upright again, terrified. His pocket wasn't shrinking at all! He knew that, now! The mirror was getting bigger and heavier, even when it wasn't in his pocket. That meant only one horrible, awful thing!

He was shrinking!

Oh it was too horrible to be imagined! What if he shrank until he disappeared? Or got stepped on! Or eaten by some horrible, hideous squirrel! The little imp began shaking all over, staring at the mirror as if it was cursed. He must have done something wrong with the dust. Hadn't She told him how to use it? This was Her fault! Growing purple-green with anger, Groj began stomping around, his emotions bouncing as unsteadily as his thoughts.

He would show Her. The Imp Lands were a lot closer than Her stupid, suck-a-human, wolf-all palace. The Imps could use this mirror better than Her. Righteous with anger, Groj stumbled towards the mirror and hefted it up again. It had grown heavier even in just that short time. He would never make it home before he shrank into a little tiny nothing!

Throwing it down, it bounced against a rock and a flash of light burst out of it as it started to hum.

Grojavek shrieked, hiding himself behind a tree and peering out bravely. The mirror lay on the ground, the surface glowing.

"Muklavuk protect me!" he whispered, praying to the greatest, bravest, warrior Imp that ever walked the Nine Kingdoms. All imps knew that Muklavuk would help only the bravest imps, and so Groj stepped out from behind the tree and approached the humming, glowing, terrifying mirror.

He stared at it for a long time, waiting for Muklavuk to come, but he never did. The glowing fizzed and fuzzed, and finally the picture formed into a room. No room he had ever seen before. There was a big, scary-looking black and white thing staring at him. It had four eyes, and a long thin nose. It was very square, and probably twice as big as he was. Soon it would be almost four times as big if he kept shrinking!

Somewhere deep in the darkest recesses of Groj's brain, another thought fought for its freedom and drifted to the surface. She had accidentally told him what this mirror was. It was a traveling mirror. And no one could have missed the rumors of the newly discovered Tenth Kingdom. He began panting with the effort of following the idea to its completion.

This mirror. Why, this mirror went to the Tenth Kingdom. They had great magic in the Tenth Kingdom. If he went across ... Groj frowned and started the idea over. If he went across, they could help him. And the Imps could claim it for their own. Everyone knew how those stupid trolls had failed. They were hiding in their kingdom now, whining and crying. No one ever gave anything to the imps. They didn't even have their own kingdom. Licking his tiny lips, Grojavek giggled for a long minute.

Muklavuk had come to help Grojavek. He was showing him the way to solve all of his problems -- and become the greatest imp of all! Squealing and giggling, Grojavek jumped into the mirror.

Jerry pulled up to the immense gates of Melissa's home, waving at the gate guard who promptly buzzed them through.

Home at last Melissa thought, watching as it grew larger until it towered over them. It was three stories, with, at last count, twelve rooms, an indoor pool and spa, a small fitness center, a movie-viewing room, a ballroom, a game room, and three bathrooms per floor. She had bought it when she was eighteen and used to throw huge, expensive parties. Now the beautiful mansion sat mostly unused. She put up her gardener, chauffeur, and house-cleaner for no rent because they kept it from getting too lonely. But in a house that size she rarely saw them anyway, and everyone seemed happy with the state of affairs.

"Thank you Jerry," she said automatically when he stopped the limo and came around to open her door. She stood unaided and smoothed a hand over her hair.

"Have a nice evening, Ms. Duke."

"Mm. You too." She climbed up the twenty-five stairs -- she'd counted them long ago -- to the roomy front door, which stood open, waiting for her. Belinda, her house-cleaner, was there, as always, her hair restricted into a tight bun. The woman was not much older than Melissa, with beautiful, long red hair that she never wore loose. Melissa only knew it was long because she had run into her at night once, accidentally.

"Good evening, Ms. Duke."

"Belinda." Melissa stopped in the doorway, staring at the woman. Belinda met her gaze for a moment and looked away. Not out of fear, she knew, but etiquette. "How's Sport?"

"Fine. He was sleeping, last I saw."

"Did you have a nice day?" She lingered in the doorway, the wind pushing gently at her back and sneaking past into the house. Melissa didn't want to go inside, letting the door shut behind her and lock her into her house and her routine. Belinda was giving her the same stare Jerry had earlier. But still Melissa couldn't move, afraid to, as if the sameness of her life lurked inside like a monster. She could still turn around now, run back outside, escape through the gate. Escape from her life.

She moved inside, instead, and Belinda hurriedly shut the door, as if she'd seen the craziness in Melissa's eyes.

"You didn't answer my question, Belinda."

"Yes, Ms."

Melissa waited a beat, but apparently Belinda had answered the question. She wondered what the woman said to her friends over tea about her.

"Good," Melissa sighed, moving through the entry room to the sweeping staircase. The inside of the mansion was airy, with very little furniture and walls lined with windows. It had all been tastefully decorated when she bought it, in some period she could never remember the name of. There was lots of darkly stained wood and richly colored velvets that would look somber if not for all the sunlight. Every room had a wide skylight in addition to the windows, and only the bathroom and bedroom windows had curtains. Which annoyed and worried Teresa to no end, convinced that Melissa was inviting voyeurism and vandalism by leaving her property so open. Melissa knew she would die without that openness. She had lived in LA all her life, but she always felt more at home in wide, open spaces.

The hallway was long and kept from draftiness by a plush carpet and lots of heating. These walls were bare as well, except for vases overflowing with real flowers on the small tables spaced some twenty feet apart. It gave the whole area the hint of being in a field.

The wide, heavy doors to her room at the end of the hallway were partially open to allow Sport easy access. When she opened them all the way, he raised his large head and yawned a greeting at her.

"Hello to you too," she said, genuinely smiling for the first time that day. The orange tabby pushed himself to his feet and lumbered off the bed to meet her. At his last vet visit, he'd weighed in at seventeen pounds -- all healthy muscle according to Dr. Hatchinson. Sport trotted towards her, meeting her halfway across the room and tangling himself in her legs.

She laughed and scooped him up in her arms with a grunt. "Sport! When you're my age, this will all turn to fat," she admonished him, planting a kiss on his furry belly. He meowed loudly, but the rumbling she felt through her fingertips belied his true pleasure.

Next to the bed, she set him down to loud protests, and slipped off her shoes. "You wouldn't believe the day I had," she sighed, padding barefoot to her closet. It was a walk-in as big as a small room. Sport jumped off the bed again and sauntered in after her, examining her dresses. He batted idly at a dangling string while she talked.

Melissa told him everything as she changed out of her dress into a pair of old, worn jeans and a comfortable T-shirt. How much she hated this role, one in a long line of romantic comedies. How tired she was of acting in general. And how frightened she felt at looking into her future and seeing no hope for anything better. Sport listened patiently, following her back out of the closet and re-settling himself on the bed.

She finished and he was still watching her with his wise green eyes, somehow understanding. "You're my best friend," she murmured, stroking the top of his head. The words left her feeling sad.

"Well," Melissa straightened, leaving him meowing unhappily behind her. "Terry should be here soon, I guess. I'll get the kitchen ready for her." Not that she needed the help, Melissa knew. Teresa was more familiar in her kitchen than Melissa was herself.

She had just exited her room when she heard Belinda scream.

Grojavek had been in an imp's version of paradise from the moment he stepped through the mirror.

The rectangular monster with the huge nose had turned out to be an oven. And there were rows of marvelous cupboards, each one filled with a surprise. Round, heavy containers with pictures of food and wonderful metal pots that crashed noisily when he threw them across the floor.

He was rolling around the middle of the floor, which was made of hundreds of odd white squares, laughing and squeaking with excitement when a human woman came in and ruined all his fun by screaming.

He shrieked and, terrified, ran into one of the cupboards and slammed the door shut behind him. The woman stopped screaming and began shouting loudly enough to bruise his poor ears.

"Rat! RAT!" she yelled over and over. Groj clamped his hands over his ears and whimpered in the darkness. Stupid human! Didn't she know any better? He was just getting his courage up to go out and tell her when another human voice cut in.

"Belinda! What is it? Are you all right?" It was another woman. Groj groaned. He was really starting to hate human women. At least that first one had shut up.

"Ms. Duke! It was horrible! There was a huge green rat in here. I was," he heard the woman take a gigantic breath, and thought for a moment she was going to try and blow him out of his hiding place like a wolf. "I was," she continued talking instead, "coming in here because I'd heard noises. I thought it was Sport. But I saw it, right out in the middle of the floor. Look at this mess!"

Groj hoped the woman was as stupid as she sounded, and wouldn't know where he had run.

"All right. Where did it go?"

"You don't believe me."

"Of course I believe you. I just asked you where it went, didn't I?"

"You had a tone." One of the women sniffed.

"I didn't have a tone."

"Of course, Ms. Duke."

"Belinda." Groj grinned to himself at how she sounded. His mother always said his name the same way. "Just tell me where it went."

"I think it went that way." There was a pause and Groj pushed himself farther back. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Find it, first."

He heard her start to move, and then the opening and shutting of cupboard doors. He shifted from foot to foot, struggling not to squeal in fear.

"And then?"

"And then I'll kill it."

Grojavek squeaked in terror. She was going to kill him!

"Did you hear that?"

His bug-eyes widened even further and he pressed his lips tightly shut. She had heard him! She would find him and then she was going to kill him. Kick an elf! He was going to die here! With an ugly nose!

A bell rang in the sky outside, and Groj was sure it signaled his death. He started to cry.

"That's Terry. Listen, why don't you go rest and I'll take care of this. Just let Terry in on your way up, okay?"

He didn't hear the other woman's response, but he also didn't hear anymore cupboard door noises, either. Then they started up again and he felt his bravery crumble. He was going to die in the Tenth Kingdom, and no one would ever know.

At least none of the other imps would have seen his ugly nose.

"Rat problems?"

Melissa jumped at the noise, engrossed in searching her cupboards for a green rat. She glanced over her shoulder and nodded. "Belinda said she saw one. A green one, if you believe that."

Terry smiled, setting her purse and a paper bag bursting with food on the counter. "Hard to say. You never do give your hired help drug tests."

Sighing, Melissa shut another cupboard door. "Don't start that. They've all been working for me for years now, I think I could have figured it out before this. Besides," she gestured at the pans and cans scattered over the kitchen floor, "how do I explain this?"

"Maybe Belinda had someone over who had a child, and the child made the mess. Maybe she's just covering up because she thinks you're going to fire her."

"Jesus, Terry, when did you get so cynical?"

Teresa sighed. "I'm sorry. It's Frank. I had to do his make-up today, too, and you know how he is." Melissa knew too well. Frank was playing her father in this movie, and she often found herself wishing the character had been an orphan instead. He was one of the most dour, pessimistic people she had ever met, and never let a chance slip by where he could complain about it. Melissa had feared that her time spent with him over these past months was part of the reason she was feeling so awful, but she knew that was just a convenient excuse.

"I don't know why she added the 'green,' specifically," she said, trying desperately to stop her thoughts. "I didn't ask her what color it was. What else is green that lives in Los Angeles kitchens?"

Terry snorted indelicately. "Mold."

Melissa smiled at that, and shut another cupboard door after shoving the missing pans back in it. "Attack of the Kitchen Mold? Sounds like a good flick."

"You'd be wonderful in it," Terry agreed seriously. "I'm going to start making the sauce. Hi Sporty, how are you?" Melissa glanced over and saw the orange tabby saunter into the room, brushing up against Terry's legs on his way by. He stopped over by her, sniffing at the open cupboard.

"I was going to turn on the stove but..." Melissa waved at the messy floor. She scratched Sport behind the ears and then shoved another pot into the cupboard. "When did I get so many pots? I don't recall ever buying any of these." She straightened, holding a wafflemaker in her hand. "I don't even like waffles."

Sport stalked over to a closed cupboard farther down the row and started growling deep in his throat, the hairs on his tail standing on end. From inside, Melissa heard something squeak. Grinning victoriously, she moved over to the door and gently tried to push Sport aside. "Look at you, Sport. When did you become a ratter?" When he didn't move, she pushed harder until he finally gave way, just on the verge of hissing.

She felt Terry's presence behind her and looked up.

"What are you going to do if the rat is actually in there?" the other woman asked.

Melissa frowned. "I was going to kill it, but-"

"But how."

"Exactly." She turned a questioning gaze to Terry. "Any ideas? Besides rattraps. I need something immediate, since we know where he is." Sport had gone back to the door and was tugging at it with his paw, trying to get it open. Whatever was inside started scrambling around and squeaking more loudly. "Sport," she pushed him away more forcefully but he came back again anyway, spitting and hissing.

"All right fine," she said, frustrated. "You can have it." Melissa stepped back and pulled the door open.

Groj heard the woman's words and shrieked, knowing he would die soon. Whatever this 'Sport,' was, it was certain to be some horrible Tenth Kingdom monster. Whispering Muklavuk's name over and over, he waited until he saw the first light, and threw himself at the door, tumbling out onto the ground. He passed some big, orange, hairy thing and the two women and smashed into the cabinet door on the other side. One of the women shouted, "Imp!" and he stopped to look up at them. They were staring back down, obviously in shock. He looked for the big orange thing and was not happy to see that it was a cat. He hated cats.

"Muklavuk help me!" he squealed, as he heard the sudden shouting and Sport's renewed growling. Without looking, the little imp leapt to his feet and ran the only direction he could. He skidded across the floor, unable to get enough purchase to stop himself before he crashed into the wall. Falling onto his back, he rolled to his side as Sport landed where he had been. "Ack!" he cried, continuing to roll until he got back onto his feet. He spotted the shimmering ahead that had to be his way back home and ran for it like She was chasing him.

Melissa could only stare at the green thing as it tumbled out of her cupboard and into the other wall. Then Terry had shouted something and they had all paused to get a good look at each other. It was so oddly like a scene from a movie that by the time Melissa had stopped looking for cameras, the badly-mangled, green gremlin looking creature had taken off again, followed by Sport.

It slammed into the wall and she couldn't help but wince, although it got immediately to its feet and kept running. Sport pounced where it had been and then skidded into the wall himself, and even he didn't seem to feel it as he turned to the left to follow, chasing the green creature around the large middle island. As she hurried that way, she saw something iridescent in the corner, even as the creature ran into it. The wall flashed brightly, blinding her for a moment.

"What the hell?" she gasped, blinking her eyes furiously. She came around the island and got to the shimmering space just as Sport jumped through it. "SPORT!" she cried, leaping in after him without thinking. She thought she heard Terry calling her name behind her before all sound disappeared.

Melissa had an endless moment to be frightened, sure that somehow she had died. It was all black and silence, and she couldn't even hear her own heart beating.

And then light and noise rushed back over her like a tidal wave and she stumbled to the ground. She fell, her hands hitting soft grass when she caught herself. Behind her, there was another burst of noise and Teresa lurched to a stop beside her. Breathing hard, Melissa could only stare at the grass for a long minute before she convinced herself to look up.

They were on the edge of a forest. She saw Sport run into it and then his small form disappeared.

"Oh my God," Melissa whispered hoarsely. "Where are we?"