Broken Dragon - D.W. Moneypenny Page 0,112

snorted and said, “Of course not. We both know your abilities are metaphysical in nature, not supernatural.”

“Of course. So I just had some kind of lapse here or what? What’s your theory on why I thought I heard something like that?”

He shrugged. “I would surmise that you were a little disoriented after your intense bout of concentration. Using your abilities has been taxing for you in the past. Perhaps that was the cause of your confusion.”

“That’s all you have to say? You have nothing to add?”

“Of course I would like to say thank-you,” he said.

“Thank you? For what?”

He pointed to the ceiling and said, “For patching the hole in the roof.”

Mara pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes. As she was about to respond, her phone rang. She pulled it from her jacket pocket. It was her mother, using the video chat application. Mara tapped it, and her mother’s and Hannah’s faces filled the screen.

“Video, I’m impressed,” Mara said.

Diana looked down at her granddaughter and said, “The munchkin insisted. She wanted to see her father.”

“Sorry, but Sam’s not here with us. He’s still working at the bakery, while Ping and I ran over to the warehouse to take care of some stuff. If it’s an emergency, you can call him on the bakery’s landline, but you won’t be able to see him,” Mara said.

From the corner of her eye, she took a quick glance at Ping. For an instant, too quickly to even take in a gasp, she thought she saw the red haze pass over his eyes again, but he blinked, and she couldn’t be sure. It might have just been a trick of the light.

“Can I say hi to Mr. Ping?” Hannah asked.

Ping leaned forward to get into the range of the phone’s camera, but Mara pulled back and said, “Ah, he’s in the middle of something right now. Gotta go! See you in about an hour!” She tapped the End icon on the screen.

Sitting back with an irritated look, Ping said, “Now that was rude, don’t you think?” The rims of his pupils radiated a red glow that bled over and filled his brown irises. Though the light again faded quickly, this time Mara did not doubt what she saw, or what it meant.

She shrugged, as if it were not a big deal, and smiled at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to slight you. I just wanted to wrap up the call and get on with our session. I know you’re tired, and I didn’t want to use up what little time we have entertaining a five-year-old, who really just wanted to talk to her father.”

He seemed to relax but still struck Mara as stilted when he said, “I see. Very well, what is it that you wish to discuss?”

CHAPTER 50

Mara scooted around on her mat, as if she were trying to get comfortable. In reality she was releasing some tension and hoping to put Ping at ease by feigning a casualness she didn’t feel. Dangling her arms before her, she shook them loosely while rolling her head on her neck.

“You look like you are getting ready to engage in a wrestling match. Should I be worried?” he said. There was no humor in his voice.

Mara straightened and locked her gaze on him. “I think I’ve figured out what that latest haiku means, the one I told you about in the hospital the other day.”

“The one that talks about this realm’s Chronicle. Is that what you are referring to?”

“Yes,” Mara said. She reached into her pocket, removed the copper medallion and placed it on the floor between them. She kept her gaze on Ping’s face and watched as he looked down at it.

His eyes widened. “You’ve recovered the Chronicle. But how?”

She shook her head. “You see, I believe we were on the wrong path thinking the haiku referred to the Chronicle of Continuity. While it’s true the Chronicle of Creation, the one that Ab—the Aphotis—took, was from a different realm, I had spaced to the fact that Ned Pastor had fabricated a replica of it. Mom told me that he had made a duplicate medallion, but I didn’t really pay much attention. I just chalked it up to one of my mother’s friends doing their usual New Agey thing and didn’t give it much thought.”

She paused, waiting for Ping to say something. When he didn’t, she added, “Don’t you see? The haiku said prepare like a pastor. It wasn’t talking about sermons or scriptures, like

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