Geek Fantasy Novel by E. Archer Read Free Book Online Page B

or waiting for their servicemen, or holding wires in either hand in hopes that their currents would stop interfering. During his non-working hours he read with Beatrice on the roof, played squash (poorly) with Cecil, and taught Daphne how to shoot videos on her phone. One day he and Beatrice went into town to see a movie (an American blockbuster, which brought on an unexpected rush of pride related to frame rates and number of effects shots), after which Ralph hung out with Cecil in the stockroom at the clothing store and bought Daphne a clearance headband with two monstrous felt eyes wired to dangle over her bangs. It would be a great prop for the short films that Daphne the telephone filmmaker had taken to composing.
    Every night Ralph double-checked the locks, morbidly certain that he was bound to have an intruder — it wasn’t difficult to imagine someone breaking into his shadowy, isolated gatehouse. To keep his mind off the possibility until he fell asleep, he had taken to sitting up in bed, typing gameideas into his laptop, or composing the long apology email he would send to his parents once he got the internet working. Glancing about the spare stone walls lit only by the feeble glow of his laptop screen, listening to the scratches of his pen against heavy paper and seeing the reflected shadows of the giant tree’s leaves pace the windows, he often wondered what he would do if someone knocked on his door. There was no peephole or door chain, no back escape and no one to hear if he shouted for help. His only defense would be to not answer the door at all, and that sounded feeble as far as defenses go.
    His invader wound up not giving Ralph the option, materializing as she did at the foot of his bed, seated so her royal posterior rested in the space between his legs. Until her appearance, Ralph had been in a deep sleep, and it took him a few moments to click the light on and realize that there was, indeed, a famous duchess in the room.
    Ralph’s first impression of Chessie was a flurry of details: massive strawberry curls piled on a narrow head and held in place by strips of velvet, low-cut black evening gown interrupted by swatches of mesh and linen lattice, lips as wet and red as fresh-cut ruby grapefruit. Slowly the details formed together into what could only be his aunt Chessie.
    “I was not expecting you to be here,” she intoned, locking a cigarette into her curved mouth.
    Ralph sat up, pulled his sheets about his bare waist, and stared at Chessie’s lips.
    “In fact,” she continued, “I don’t believe that was an error on my part. I do believe — correct me if I’m wrong — that even your parents probably don’t expect you to be here.”
    “What are you doing in my room?”
    “The way you say that makes me think you’ve already realized who I am. Otherwise, that would be the next logical question, no?” She pulled her cigarette away from her lips and examined it idly.
    Ralph nodded. Just a few days before he had seen her ad in a newspaper flyer, mugging as she sipped a protein shake.
    “I assume that the kids must have told you all about me. So now you inform me, if you will be so kind, how it is that you come to be alive.”
    And so Ralph stammered for a moment about how, to the best of his knowledge, he had never died, and could therefore only conclude that he was still, at least as of that moment, alive.
    Chessie took a long drag of her cigarette and offered it to Ralph. He declined. “Those wily Stevenses,” Chessie said. “They sent me a Christmas card a few years back saying you were quite dead.”
    “I bet they had a good reason,” Ralph said quietly.
    “Wishes, wishes, wishes,” Chessie said, jumping to her feet and pacing the gatehouse. “All this fuss over
wishes.”
    “What kinds of wishes?” Ralph asked, reaching for a discarded T-shirt and pulling it on.
    Chessie pressed her hands against her cheeks, pulling her skin taut. “What do you see when you look at me?” she