Deadly Designs (Design Series) by Dale Mayer Read Free Book Online Page B

were good that Storey would become just another runaway teenager that was never heard from again.
    Peering around the corner of the doorway, she realized she'd reached a small anteroom. Maybe it would be a sitting room off a bedroom in her dimension. Another weird table sat off to one side covered in items she couldn't decipher. Almost everything had a neutral color to it. The sheer drabness of this world hurt her creative soul, her artist soul. Where were the reds, greens and blues?
    Very odd. She quickly scanned the room. It was empty. But there was an open doorway ahead of her. Maybe the person had gone into there.
    She crept over to the table, ducking out of sight at the slightest sound. Lifting her head slightly, she checked to see if she was still alone.
    Yes. She reached up to the stack of items on the table and picked up one for a closer look. It seemed somewhat like a cup, except too big for her small fingers to hold comfortably. The next item appeared to be made of the same material, almost a thin sandstone slice. It resembled a tiny box of some kind. It was also empty.
    Weird materials.
    Weird items.
    Weird place.
    The items were odd sized, too. The table was higher than she was used to; not that she had to stand on tiptoes to look down on it but she'd have a hard time doing any work on it comfortably. What's the chance her stylus was in the jumble? She didn't recognize it. And she didn't want to move around too much and alert whoever was in the next room. Hunkering back down, she searched the area again, and spotted another wall of cupboards like the last one she'd entered. And this one was open showing shelves on the one side. Closing her eyes she called out to the stylus in a soft whisper, "Are you there?"
    A buzz answered her. Stronger, clearer, but still indistinct because she had no way to write the answers. She grabbed her zipper pull and held it against what must be a seat butted up against the side of the table and asked again.
    Slowly her hand moved. Yes.
    Oh thank heavens for that.
    "Where are you?"
    Don't know.
    Of course it didn't. Neither did she. But...it was a computer-like thingy so maybe it could send out a beacon. "Can you send out a signal, a noise to let me know where you are?"
    Instantly, there was an odd ringtone going off in her head. Or in the air? No, surely not. She spun around looking for the source. There, in the cupboards. Within seconds, she'd raced toward the spot, scared to alert whoever was in the other room to her presence. There were deep shelves inside. She quickly searched them. The stylus just looked like an old carpenter's pencil. Dull and dark, it was hard to see in the dark.
    The noise was definitely louder here. Excited, she dropped to her knees and checked the bottom spaces. The noise increased to almost deafening now. A good sign. The last few items were almost recognizable. A ball, maybe a bat? A bunch of toys like a ball on string or wire and a wooden post. Like a child's closet. Off to one side were tablets of some kind. Maybe for writing on, like miniature chalkboards. Even chalk would be a huge help. By the time she'd moved to the next cubby hole the music in her head changed from a weird ringtone to an almost soothing lullaby.
    "Does that mean I'm almost there, Stylus?"
    The lullaby increased in volume. It increased so much, she could hardly stand it. She shoved her hand into the jumbled mess and closed around a half dozen objects.
    Something made her fingers tingle.
    The lullaby came to a dead stop.
    Warmth shot up her arm. She withdrew her handful until she could see what she'd snagged clearly.
    Her stylus!
    Joy shot through her. Yes!
    And then she took another look and stopped. How could this be possible?
    There, clutched in her fingers, were three pencils that could have all been styluses. And maybe they were? Who would have stashed these in here, lost and forgotten? These gems could have saved the Louers so much hardship?
    They might not be styluses, but as she